


Love Doesn't Taste Like Candy Hearts

by Saral_Hylor



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bucky Is a Good Bro, F/M, Getting Together, Howard Stark Is a Dick, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Miscommunication, Mpreg, Obadiah Stane has his own agenda, Orphan Bucky, Orphan Steve, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pregnant Steve, Protective Bucky, Slow Build, Smut, Steve Angst, Steve has trust issues, Steve needs to learn how to trust Tony, Teen Pregnancy, Tony Angst, Tony needs to remember to sleep, Work In Progress, mentions of abortions, not explaining how mpreg actually works, relationships take work, this isn't going to be smooth sailing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saral_Hylor/pseuds/Saral_Hylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He couldn't say that it was a mistake, or even a bad idea, and he refused to regret it. However, in hindsight, perhaps it could have been a little bit better planned out, and they could have been a bit smarter about it. That was hindsight though, and at the time, and in the immediate weeks that followed, Steven Grant Rogers did not regret sleeping with Anthony Edward Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be the first to admit that mpreg was never something I planned to write. I really didn't. I'd barely even read any before this idea hit me. It started with a mental image. Just one. Of skinny!Steve standing in a classroom, lifting his shirt up to show off his baby bump and Tony sitting backwards on a chair leaning down to talk to the bump.  
> It was cute, and distracting, and demanded that I pay it attention. I didn't think I had the skills to draw it. So I ended up starting a fic to go with it instead. 
> 
> It isn't going to be the best mpreg fic, not even close. I didn't want to write A/B/O, and I'm not clever enough to come up with a "how" mpreg works in this case, just please, accept that it happens in this universe, and while rare and often risky, it's pretty normal, and modern medicine helps a lot!
> 
>  
> 
> Beta'd by the gorgeous [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble).
> 
> Cheer squad comprised of [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble), [3White_Mage3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3), [jujitsuelf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf) and [joidianne4eva](http://archiveofourown.org/users/joidianne4eva/pseuds/joidianne4eva). Thank you all for your much needed and continued support. *hugs to everyone!*
> 
>  
> 
> Also, chapter one is the smutty chapter of accidental porn. I never intended this story to be smutty when I started. It was going to be a brief recap of what happened, alluding to sex, and then on with the plot. Nearly 5000 words later, I'd written smut and little plot. My excuse is the smut is essential to the plot. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!

It hadn’t been planned out, it wasn’t like they were dating, which was probably the only thing Steve had any regrets about. He’d liked Tony for a while, had what Peggy labelled as a school boy crush, on him since they’d been seated at the same table in Italian lessons in freshmen year and Tony had made time to help him with his spelling and pronunciation so that he didn’t fail. It was just by pure chance, they’d been at a party, Tony’s friend Jim Rhodes’ birthday, and Steve was only there because Bucky was on the hockey team with Jim at school. It wasn’t like he a Tony were really friends, but they talked in classes that they shared, and said hello to each other in the corridors if they passed, so when Tony had dropped onto the couch next to him at the party and leant over and kissed him, it had been a slight shock. It was enough to make him freeze in place, but when Tony started to pull away, Steve had followed, chasing that kiss.

It didn’t happen fast, it wasn’t some whirlwind fuelled by alcohol, though he could taste a hint of something on Tony’s lips that tickled his sinuses and seemed to fill his mouth. It was slow, curious, careful, Tony’s hand in his, leading him away from the crowds, upstairs and into a bedroom. It looked like it might have been Jim’s, but Steve didn’t have time to dwell on that because Tony’s hands were on his hips, skirting up underneath his shirt, and those lips that had kisses his so carefully downstairs were instead trailing along his neck, teeth scraping across his skin until he was squirming, pushing back against Tony’s hands, his own hands tangling in the other boy’s hair.

Somewhere in those feverish moments that followed Steve lost his shirt, Tony’s fingers making quick work of the buttons, slipping the fabric free of his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. He wanted to shy away, cover himself back up again, he knew he wasn’t much to look at, narrow shouldered and too many ribs showing, but Tony had stopped what he was doing just to stare at him.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous, Steve.” Tony ducked his head back down to Steve’s skin, kissing the point of one shoulder then along his collar bone and back to the base of his throat.

Steve wanted to reply, a protest already on the tip of his tongue, when Tony’s hands slid down his back, both hands cupping around his arse and dragging him closer, until they were pressed together. He could feel Tony’s erection pushing into him from underneath layers of clothing, and it made heat roll through him, like electricity, radiating all the way down to his toes.

“Do you want to stop?” Tony murmured the words, lips moving against Steve’s skin, voice so low that it caused a shiver to roll through the shorter boy. “I’ll stop if you like, only go as far as you want to. Just say and we can stop.”

“Not yet.” He heard himself saying, voice sounding rougher than it usually did. He wasn’t sure when, if at all, he would want Tony to stop, but it certainly wasn’t while Tony was doing those things to his neck.  He tangled his fingers in Tony’s hair and tugged at it gently until Tony raised his lips away from his neck, and moved back to his mouth.

Steve had closed his eyes, but he felt Tony’s thumbs hook in his back pockets and use that slight leverage to direct him to walk backwards. His hands shifted from Tony’s hair to link behind his neck, just to try and hold himself upright. That, however, all failed when the backs of his legs hit to edge of the bed and he lost balance, toppling back onto the mattress. Instinct dictated that he should try and get back up again, but Tony was half kneeling on the bed, leaning over his, his brown eyes intense, fingers slowly trailing down his stomach until they came to the waist band of his pants.

“Can I?” Tony whispered the question, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the jut of one hipbone.

He nodded, jerky and maybe just a fraction too enthusiastically, lifting his hips up so that Tony could tug down his pants once his deft fingers has made short work of the button and zip that held them closed. His pants bunched around his ankles until he kicked his shoes off and toed his way out of his socks and pants, leaving him entirely naked. Part of his brain suddenly flared up telling him that he shouldn’t let things get too far out of hand, that he should have just stopped at kissing Tony, but Tony was running his hands up and down his thighs, eyes raking over his body, and it felt too good to really want to stop.

Tony smiled at him, still kneeling on the edge of the bed, fully clothed. He wanted to change that fact, to get his hands cooperate and do something towards getting Tony out of his clothes, but there was something about the way that Tony was looking at him that made him feel like he should just let him look as long as he wanted.

He could feel himself blushing under Tony’s gaze, but he couldn’t help but squirm under his hands as they trailed up his thighs again. Fingers danced over his hips, thumb nails scratching delicate white lines into his skin, skirting his erection entirely and travelling further up. Over his stomach, fingers splaying out over his ribs, then shifting higher again. Tony dragged the pad of his thumb over one nipple and Steve felt his spine curve up, like he wanted to get closer to that touch, and a breathy, needy sound worked its way out of his mouth.

“You like that, do you gorgeous?” Tony’s smile turned devilish for a moment, pinching the small nub between his thumb and forefinger. Releasing it, he let his hand trail lower, finger dipping into his navel as his hands moved past, before one hand curled around his hip. “You’ll like this too. Just lay there, sweetheart, I’ll look after you. Wanted to touch you for a long time, see you like this.” His free hand shifted inwards, fingers curling around Steve’s erection.

His hips bucked up automatically, jerking him back to what was happening, because his mind was still reeling from what Tony had just admitted. “Tony.” The name left him in a gasp, and he found himself pushing up into Tony’s grip.

“You like that, do you cute stuff? What else would you like?” Tony slid his other hand between his thighs, running up higher. “Want me to keep touching you? Want my fingers up inside you?”

His face felt like it was on fire. Tony’s words caused heat to pool in the base of his stomach. He squirmed, feeling the press of Tony’s hand between his legs. Part of him wanted to be horrified at himself for letting things play out the way they were, but he wasn’t, he liked Tony, and if he was going to do anything, he wanted it to be with him. Steve nodded his head, hooking one hand behind Tony’s neck, drawing him down into another kiss.

“Please? Yes. That. What you said.” He could barely get the words out around the concentration it was taking to keep breathing, and the distracting way Tony’s hand was still gripping his dick.

He saw the hasty blink and the repressed shiver that attempted to roll through Tony, then he was kissing him, hard, tongue working its way into his mouth, tracing teeth, tongue and the roof of his mouth. Tony pulled back eventually, removing his hands from where they were on Steve, before planting them on the bed either side of him and pushing himself off the bed. Steve made a small cut off noise, to which Tony only smirked, ducking down to press a kiss to his hip. “Don’t worry, gorgeous, not going to leave you alone for long.”

As Tony searched through the drawers on the bed side tables, Steve shifted more onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows, trying not to be too aware of the fact that he was the only one naked. The other boy wasn’t gone long, crawling back onto the bed, pausing just long enough to pull his shirt off.

He was so caught up in watching the shift of Tony’s muscles as he crawled back onto the bed, that Steve barely noticed when Tony’s hand nudged his knees apart and he situated himself between his legs.

Tony set something down on the bed beside Steve’s hip, and then dipped to press a trail of kisses under the curve of his ribs. “Pass me one of those pillows, sweetheart, going to prop you up.”

The move of lips against his skin caused him to squirm, but he still scrabbled around for a pillow, dragging it down the bed towards Tony. Hands on his hips guided him up, and the pillow was slid beneath him, knees drawn up and apart.

Tony smiled, pressing a kiss to each knee before reaching for what he’d set down earlier. “You ever done this before? Ever had someone’s fingers inside you? Anyone ever fucked you before?”

Steve shook his head, he didn’t want to admit it, but he’d never kissed anyone up until Tony kissed him downstairs. He tried to smile, to reflect the smiles that Tony was giving him, but he wasn’t sure he had enough control over his muscles to form it. It didn’t seem to matter though, because one hand was running down the inside of his thigh, fingers skimming over his erection, and then working lower. He heard the flick and click, like the lid of something opening, and then Tony’s eyes weren’t on his face anymore, and he had to close his eyes against the embarrassment when he realised exactly where Tony’s attention was focused. He felt the cool pressure against his hole, and his whole body jerked in reaction, trying to scoot higher up the bed to get away from the sudden touch.

“Shh, Steve, sweetheart, it’s alright.” Tony murmured the words, one hand settling on the back of his thigh, pushing his leg up until his knee was nearly touching his chest. “Just breathe, gorgeous. I’ll make this feel good. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. Just tell me to stop and I will. Just say it.”

He drew in a careful breath, trying to ensure he could still get enough, and felt the determination and want settle into him. “I don’t want you to stop.” His voice sounded more wretched than he’d ever heard it, he swallowed once, twice, and tried to remember to breathe.

Tony’s finger was back, pressing into him, slick and cold, but it didn’t counteract the burn and stretch as Tony pushed inside him. He breathed, trying to will his body to relax, as Tony’s whispered instructions encouraged him to do so. He felt Tony’s finger move inside of him, pushing deeper, then slowly sliding out again. The sensation was strange, but after the third slide of Tony’s finger, he didn’t find it so unpleasant, just peculiar. Tony pressed kisses along the inside of his thigh, teeth catching gently on skin making heat flare in the pit of his stomach. He squirmed, wanting to get more feeling, and there was the answering press of another finger inside him.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Tony whispered the words, eyes locking back on his, dark and hungry. He pushed his fingers in, curling them ever so slightly. Steve’s body jerked, hips thrusting upwards. Tony smirked at the reaction. “Gorgeous. Did you want to do more than this?”

“More?” He wasn’t sure he could even focus on what Tony was going to ask, his brain was starting to feel hazy, too distracted by what Tony’s fingers were doing inside him. The pull, stretch and drag of them inside him, shifting apart, making more room, enough for a third finger to push in.

“Sex. I want to be inside you. Do you want to try that? We don’t have to. I’m sure I could get you off just like this.” Tony’s voice was sounding ragged, drawn tight, like he was trying to keep control, but his fingers were still moving, pushing and drawing back, curling up again eliciting a startled moan out of Steve.

He didn’t doubt Tony’s ability to do just what he said, but his mind focussed on the first word Tony had said, and he wanted that, wanted more of the feeling that Tony’s fingers were giving him. That filled and stretched feeling that was sending sparks and waves of warmth through him, that was making him arch up off of the mattress, and fist the bed spread beneath him in his hands. Tony Stark wanted to have sex with him, wanted to take his virginity. And he was all too willing to let him. “Yeah, I want, I want to try that. With you. Please.”

Tony’s eyes went wide, as though he wasn’t expecting that response, but then he leant forward, cover Steve’s body with his own, pressing open mouthed kisses to his collar bone, the hollow at the base of his throat, beneath his jaw, and finally against his lips. One hand was fumbling between them, Tony worked open the button and fly of his jeans undone, his other hands still pushing his fingers inside Steve. “Try, yeah we can. But you tell me if it hurts, or you don’t like it. It should feel good though, sweetie.”

Steve nodded agreement, really hoping that he wouldn’t have to stop Tony, the desperate need for release already building up inside him. He felt the fingers slowly draw out of him, and he couldn’t help the whimper that the sensation, eyes snapping open. Tony was still there, right at the edge of the bed, pushing his pants off of his hips and letting them slide down his legs. He couldn’t help but stare, the lean expanse of muscle that made up Tony’s thighs and stomach, the slight shadows of his ribs, the swell of his biceps. His fingers flexed around the bed spread, he wanted to touch Tony, run his hands over every inch of skin before him. He didn’t have a chance to contemplate that, to work up the courage, though, Tony had crawled back onto the bed, situating himself back between Steve’s legs.

He had to close his eyes again, feeling Tony’s hands run up his legs, hooking under his knees and lifting his legs up higher. One leg hooked over Tony’s shoulder, he could feel the press of Tony’s chest and collar bone against the back of his thigh, and the force that put his knee close to his chest.

There was the click and flip sound from before, and then Tony’s lips were touching his, softer and sweeter than before. “Look at me, Steve, please look at me?”

Tony’s words were so close he thought he could taste them, but he did as he was asked, opening his eyes carefully, finding Tony’s brown eyes staring back down at him, watching him, asking questions he didn’t put into words. He managed to free one hand from where it was fisted around the bed spread, bringing it up to push the hair back away from Tony’s forehead. He stretched up slightly, lips brushing against the corner of Tony’s mouth, hoping that it was answer enough for the questions that went unasked.

Tony shifted, moving closer, hips pressing into the inside of his thighs. One arm was supporting Tony, the other still tucked between them, but then he felt it, the push of the blunt head of Tony’s erection pressing against his hole and he had to try hard not to flinch like he had before. He focussed on breathing, on trying to relax his body, like Tony had told him to do before, though, at some point, he clenched his eyes shut again, and his fingers were probably wound too tight through Tony’s hair. The stretch and burn was more than before, pushing and dragging, but it was filling that void inside him that was left when Tony had removed his fingers, and he didn’t want it to stop. It was the more he’d been wanting before, and he could feel the warmth coiling and roiling inside him, washing through him and rolling back like waves to lap at the base of his spine and in the pit of his stomach. Tony’s breath was hot against the side of his neck, and he wasn’t sure when they’d both tucked against each other’s shoulders. It wasn’t until he felt the slight tremors running through Tony, and the rapid, barely controlled breathing in his ear, that he realised Tony wasn’t pushing in any more, just pressed against him, still, but it was an effort.

“Fuck, Steve,” Tony’s voice was a harsh croak, so full of want and need that it almost scared Steve to realise it was all aimed at him. “You feel so good. Can I move? When you’re ready.”

He found himself nodding his head, because the burn was fading, settling into a dull, but mildly pleasant ache, and he still needed more, something to push the feeling over into the pleasure he remembered from having Tony’s fingers inside him. Tony drew back slightly, slowly, carefully, with his mouth touching the spot just beneath Steve’s jaw where his pulse fluttered. The shift and drag, coupled with the damp feeling of Tony’s lips and breath against his skin made him arch up, trying to get closer to Tony, trying to fit their bodies together more perfectly. The feeling, the need, only intensified with every movement that Tony made, no matter how careful or marginal. His leg slipped off of Tony’s shoulder, slick with sweat where their skin was touching, only to be caught in the crook of Tony’s elbow. The angle changed, the push and drag touching the spot that Tony had curled his fingers against earlier, the spot that made his back arch up off of the bed, his hips jerking upwards to answer the way Tony pushed back into him. The bed spread was abandoned in preference to wrapping his arm around Tony’s shoulders, pulling him closer and he buried his face against Tony’s shoulder, mouthing at his skin in sloppy attempts at kisses.

They moved together, his hips rolling up to meet Tony’s, he could feel the related burn in his stomach muscles, but it mingled with everything else, and felt good as opposed to uncomfortable. His erection strained between them, heavy, reminding him that it was there, and he couldn’t help but trying work more friction onto it. Tony shifted, rolling more to one side, propping himself up on one arm and putting enough space between them so he could look down at Steve. Tony’s pupils were blown wide, shadowed by eyelashes that Steve just wanted to reach up and touch, mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this, Steve, so perfect. Never thought I’d get a chance to do this.” It sounded like a secret, the way Tony whispered it so carefully, his eye creasing in the corners like he was expecting some form of rebuttal.

“Never had a chance?” Steve had to remind himself to breathe, the whole situation all the more intense for the way Tony was looking at him. He could feel his cheeks blazing when he took in Tony’s words, and he really hoped that it’d just pass for exertion. “You always had a chance. Never thought you’d want me.”

Tony’s lips crashed back against his, harder than before, matching the way he pushed inside of him, until he could feel every inch of him, every muscle twitch, the slightly pull in time with every breath in. Tony had put all his weight onto one side, his free hand stroking Steve’s hair back from his face, calloused fingertips trailing over his cheekbones, jaw line, then mapping paths down his neck, over his shoulder and along his side He felt Tony’s hand slip between their bodies, fingers curling around his erection, and a noise strangled its way out of his throat, only to be swallowed by Tony.

Tony pulled away, breathing roughly, licking his lips. His hand shifted slowly, fingers just tight enough, the drag and pull matching each slow thrust inside the smaller boy. “Not want you? Fuck, Steve, don’t you see your self? You’re so perfect.”

“Not perfect.” He started the protest, but it wasn’t really a conversation he thought they should be having, given the circumstances. He could barely focus on words anyway, only wanted to feel, and all the sensations were starting to pile up, the ebb and flow of warmth through him was building up, collecting in a spark in the pit of his stomach.

“Yep, perfect,” Tony peppered kisses across his cheek, nuzzling into the spot just in front of his ear. “Always so nice to everyone, ‘cept bullies, always stand up for the little guy. Polite, perfect, like I said.”

He fisted both his hands in Tony’s hair and dragged him back around to fit their lips together, just to get him to stop talking. He couldn’t keep kissing Tony for long though, he needed to pull in too much oxygen. He pressed his cheek against Tony’s, relaxing his fingers, making them stroke through Tony’s hair rather than tug at it. It was all getting too much, Tony’s hand on him, the push inside of him, the weight of Tony pressing down against him. He was sucking in air, so consumed by the feeling that he didn’t have a chance to warn Tony before his orgasm tore through him. It left him gasping, reeling, white behind his eyelids; everything felt sharper and duller at the same time, hazy, yet he was all too well aware of Tony kissing the side of his face, still moving inside him, the silky moisture between them, a blend of semen and sweat. He felt like he was drifting, moving with each push in and drag back, until the rhythm broke and Tony’s hips stuttered forward, arms shifting to slide beneath his back and hold him tight. They were close, so close together; his legs had slipped, hooked around the back of Tony’s, feet touching, keeping Tony close, as they panted into each other’s skin.

He became aware of Tony’s voice, thought he couldn’t focus enough to keep track of the words. His arms had dropped back onto the bed, spread out, and all he could think about was the dull ache in his hips and thighs from having his legs in such an unfamiliar position, and the need to keep breathing. Tony shifted above him, pulling away, the cold assaulted his skin that had previously been shielded by Tony’s body, and then the bed shook, the mattress dipping beside him. The empty feeling hit a moment later, making him clamp his legs back together and pull his arms around his chest. It was an effort to open his eyes, but once he did, he could see Tony, sitting there next to him, hand full of tissues as he carefully cleaned himself up.

Tony’s eyes settled on him, his lips tugging up in the corner as he dropped the dirty tissues on the bed, and clambered up to his knees. Leaning back over him, Tony ducked to press a quick kiss to his lips, before drawing back, and starting to clean up his stomach. “Was that okay?”

The uncertainty in Tony’s voice made him snap back fully into reality, hands quickly scrambling to take the tissues and finish up the job that Tony had started. As he shifted to clean up as much as he could, wishing for the option of a shower, he became more acutely aware of the tightness in his thigh and stomach muscles, but it seemed to be worth it. It took a moment, but he managed to get his body to cooperate enough to sit up, and instinctively found himself leaning towards Tony, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Really good.”

Tony grinned in response, turning his head to kiss his lips, gently at first, then pushing harder, his tongue flicking out to drag along his bottom lip, only teasing before pulling back. “We should do this again. Don’t think Rhodey will be too impressed to find his bed all messed up, but oh well, not like he hasn’t done it at my place before. He’ll forgive me when he finds out it was you I was with, not one can stay mad at you, hey gorgeous. So, what do you think?”

He couldn’t help the smile, despite the slight tightness in his chest at the idea of Tony so casually telling his friends what happened, but it didn’t matter, because Tony Stark was asking for it to be more than a once off thing, whatever it really was. He didn’t get a chance to answer though, because his phone started ringing in his pocket, and he made a frantic dive to dig it out of his pants and answer it. “Hello?”

“Steve? Where are you man? We’ve got to get going, Nick’s here to pick us up, it’s almost curfew.” Bucky’s voice came through the phone, sounding slightly frantic. “I’ve looked everywhere for you, don’t tell me you did something dumb like decide to walk home alone.” 

A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was almost midnight, and he knew for a fact that Nick Fury would be out the front, the engine still running, ready to growl at them for being late, though they were unlikely to get in any real trouble, despite the group home’s curfews being pretty strict. “I’m upstairs. I’ll be there in a few, okay, just ask Nick to wait, and I’ll be right there.”

There was a pause, then the sound of a startled, disbelieving laugh. “Upstairs? Steve, you sly dog, who the hell are you up there with?”

He glared at his phone, as though Bucky would be able to see his disapproval. “I’ll meet you in the car.” He hung up, cutting off Bucky’s protests, before trying to gather up all his clothes, sorting them out from Tony’s, pulling on his underwear and pants, shrugging into his shirt and hastily doing up the buttons.

“Steve?”

He jerked around to look at Tony, caught half way through pulling his shoes on, socks stuffed in his pocket, because he was in too much of a hurry. Tony was still sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, and watching him with a guarded expression. He didn’t know what else to do, so he leant over and kissed him, once, too quickly, he wanted to stay and spend more time with Tony, but he couldn’t. “I have to go. My ride’s here and it’s almost curfew. I’ll see you Monday at school, right?”

Tony smirked slightly, but slide off the bed and reached for his own pants, pulling them back on. “Ever the good little boy, hey? Don’t want to get you in trouble by making you break curfew.”

He wanted to stay, to make sure that Tony wanted to still see him again, but his phone was buzzing in his pocket again, and he knew that Bucky was sending him hurry up messages. He lingered long enough to smile at Tony before slipping out the door, and dashing back down the stairs. He was breathing too hard by the time he tumbled into the car, ignoring Nick’s exasperated look, since it was usually common place when he was dealing with either him or Bucky. Bucky had a million and one questions, but when he refused to answer beyond blushing furiously, his friend shut up, though he knew it wouldn’t last long.

 

 

Things didn’t really change the next week when he went back to school, he still predominately spent time with Bucky and Peggy, and Tony still spent most of his time with his friends Rhodey and Pepper, but there were more smiles from Tony than he usually got, and whenever Tony caught him alone, he’d find himself pressed up against a wall, Tony’s lips attacking his. It wasn’t so different, but it was nice, and he could handle it. Despite starting something between them so quickly, Tony seemed more cautious when they got back to school, seemingly content with swapping numbers and endless texting, stolen kisses when no one else was around, and holding hands under the desk in their only shared class, AP English. It was sweet, and slow, and he told himself that it was the beginning of something, and he didn’t regret the night at the party at all.

For almost two months, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It shouldn’t have been so nerve wracking, to go and buy a simple item, but somehow, one pregnancy test was the scariest thing he’d ever faced down._

There were six boys in the group home, though it varied. Steve had seen a lot come and go, usually to foster parents, sometimes back to their own parents, but he and Bucky had been permanent fixtures since they’d arrived. He’d been there two years, following his mother’s death when he was fifteen. Bucky had arrived a few months later, and although they’d been going to the same high school since freshman year, he’d never really gotten to know Bucky until they were bunked in the same room together. It was hard not to bond over mutual loss, both of them desperate for a new constant in their lives, and they’d become friends despite all their differences. Their seemingly brotherly bond was probably also the reason that they never got fostered out, keeping them together in the group home rather than separating them. Nick Fury, one of the caregivers, who usually took the weekend shifts, joked that they were as much a part of the furniture as he was, and he’d been there longer than any of the other caregivers.

Due to the number in the house, ranging from twelve to seventeen, Steve was used to there being bouts of illness going around the home. Colds were most common, the flu just about every winter, and once chicken pox, which one of the younger boys had had when Steve first arrived, and he’d ended up catching them too. When he woke up before dawn one morning, feeling sick in the stomach, he thought that it’d be the beginning of a stomach bug circulating through the home. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He lay there in the dark, listening to Bucky’s soft snoring from across the room, for about two minutes, briefly wondering where they’d stashed the ginger travel sickness tablets after their last school excursion, and trying to figure out if they’d help. The queasy feeling didn’t stay slight for long, his stomach rolled, and it was all he could do to scramble out of bed, slam open the door and make the head long bolt towards the toilet. He only just made it, crashing to the tiled floor in front of the toilet and vomiting.

His stomach was still churning, even after he’d stopped spitting bile, and he couldn’t bring himself to move, forehead resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl, despite how unsanitary it was. The acidic tang of vomit burned the back of his throat and assaulted his nose, but he couldn’t reach far enough to flush the toilet.

He couldn’t even find the energy to move when the light flicked on, and the soft slap of bare feet on tiles alerted him to another presence in the room. The feet, and a pair of legs clad in familiar Simpsons themed pyjama pants entered his field of vision, and then a hand offering a plastic cup full of water,

“Not too flash there, hey Stevie Wonder?” Bucky still sounded half asleep, but the touch of his hand, pushing damp hair away from his forehead, and checking his temperature was as gentle as it was whenever he was sick.

Steve took the water offered, managing to lever himself up enough to take some into his mouth, swish it around, and spit it into the toilet. The next mouthful he swallowed, trying to easy the acid burn in the back of his throat. “Apparently not. Don’t get too close, could be contag...” That was as far as he got before his stomach revolted again, and he clung to the porcelain edge as he heaved up what little was left in his stomach. 

Bucky’s hands on his shoulders guided him away from the toilet long enough so he was able to flush it. “You want to stay here? Or a bucket and back to bed?”

His stomach was still churning, twisting and clenching, the taste of bile thick in the back of his throat. He didn’t know if he trusted himself enough to go back to bed, but the tiles were cold, and he could feel it seeping into his knees. “Time?”

“Five. Around about.” Bucky squatted down in front of him, eyes full of concern. “You want to stay home today?”

Steve groaned, for a moment he’d forgotten that it was a school day. He shook his head. “To early to tell. Shower, and I should be all good.”

 

He threw up twice more in the shower, nothing but water and stomach acid at that point. It subsided enough, back to a dull queasy feeling, that he thought he’d brave school, and hope that whatever it was wasn’t contagious. Breakfast was a trial, the dry toast Bucky forced upon him sat heavily in his stomach, but seemed to stay put.

 

The perpetual sick feeling stuck around most of the day, though he didn’t vomit again, despite bolting back out of the cafeteria as soon as he set foot inside the door, and Tony found him hunched over outside in the garden.

“So, was it the mac and cheese or the egg salad? Rhodey and I had a bad run in with the mac and cheese last year, though that could have been the hangovers too.” The comment is light hearted enough, but his tone and the hand resting on the small of Steve’s back betrayed his concern.

He let out a breathy laugh, trying to pull more air back in afterwards, trying to settle the uneasy feeling in his stomach. The urge to throw up lessened, but Steve wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to stand up straight again, besides, Tony’s hand on his back felt ridiculously good, and he wished he could push back into it, to get more contact. “Neither. Got hit with it this morning.”

He managed to straighten up, one hand instinctively rubbing his stomach, as though the motion would help calm it. He must have leant back a fraction too much against Tony’s hand, because he found himself wrapped in his arms, pulled against his chest so his head was tucked against Tony’s shoulder.

One hand was still pressed against his lower back, the other running careful fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “I can take you home if you want.”

The rational part of Steve’s mind told him that he should move away from Tony, just in case he was going to be sick again, but his body just wanted to settle against Tony, to tuck against him and get as close as possible. It was comforting, being that close, and he would have been quite happy to let Tony take him home, if it meant they could curl up together on a bed. “Only have two more classes, then it’s the weekend. Some good sleep and I should be better on Monday.”

Tony pressed a kiss to his forehead, fingernails scratching against his scalp. “Hope so, it’s not much fun being sick, especially when there weren’t any fun alcohol times preluding it.”

 

It was bearable getting through the remainder of the day, and at dinner time that night Steve felt well enough to eat, and wrote of that morning’s sickness as some sort of twenty four hour stomach bug. However, the pizza that Nick had ordered in for them, which was something of a Friday night treat, all came back up again the next morning. Saturday was usually his and Bucky’s sleep in day, but he heard Bucky grumbling that it wasn’t even six yet when he followed Steve into the toilet again, half asleep, but dutifully there with a glass of water and a damp wash cloth.

When the whole process repeated Sunday, Bucky and Nick tried to get him to go to the doctor, but Steve thought he’d spent enough time with doctors in his life already, and insisted that he could tough it out a few more days. No one else seemed to get sick, not even Bucky who refused to leave him alone even though it might be contagious, and it was that, that really got him thinking.

Monday morning was the same, though there was a bucket next to the bed, so the mad dash to the toilet wasn’t required. Bucky sat at the foot of his bed, hand roughly rubbing his foot through the blankets, and threw around suggestions of food poisoning, but Steve’s mind kept dragging him back to that night at Jim Rhodes’ party, of Tony kissing him, his hands trailing across his body, of how good everything had felt when Tony was inside him. The memory made him blush, but he covered that up by putting the wash cloth over his face. It put the idea into his head, and he couldn’t shake it. All day at school, his mind kept drifting; he flinched when Tony tried to take his hand in English, too caught up in his head, and that nagging, niggling thought, that possibility that just wouldn’t leave him alone.

He knew what he needed to do, what he should do, to stop all the ‘what ifs’ that were going through his head, but getting to a chemist to buy the test wasn’t as simple as just walking in and buying it. He managed to, Wednesday afternoon, when Bucky had hockey practice, and Tony had rushed home to work on some project while he had access to his father’s labs since he was away. It shouldn’t have been so nerve wracking, to go and buy a simple item, but somehow, one pregnancy test was the scariest thing he’d ever faced down. 

He bought it, turning red under the gaze of the pharmacist; he was sure he could hear their thoughts, how he looked too young, yet another irresponsible teenager, and everything that went with it. He stuffed the paper bag containing the test into his school backpack, right down the bottom under all his text books, but it didn’t change the fact that it was there.

He never liked to think of himself as being afraid of anything, and certainly didn’t want to run away from the consequences of his actions, but it still took him another two days before he found time to do the test. Part of him didn’t want to know for sure, because the idea of it coming back positive was terrifying on a level that he’d never felt before. The lack of privacy that he thought he’d need to process the results was an excuse to not do it, along with the general inability to do anything but vomit into a bucket for the first two hours every morning. It was Friday afternoon when he finally dragged the test out from the bottom of his bag, stuffing it in his pocket and locking the toilet door behind him.

Waiting was the real trial, staring at the result panel on the side of the test, waiting, and daring it to prove him wrong from the outcome he was already sure of. When he was sure he was going cross eyed, he forced himself to look away, closing his eyes and trying to remember how to breathe. The last thing he needed was a stress induced asthma attack to go along with everything else. It felt like an eternity, though a glance at his watch confirmed it was mere minutes, before he finally looked back at the test, still held tightly between his fingers.

Positive.

He blinked, but it changed nothing. Still positive. There was no way to avoid it. He was pregnant.

And he had no idea how to tell Tony.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Somewhere between the positive result and throwing up in the shower the next morning, Steve decided two things. First, he really should get that doctor’s appointment, as soon as possible, though for completely different reasons as to why Bucky and Nick were trying to get him to go._
> 
> _And the second was, that no matter what Tony’s reaction was, or what anyone else said, he wasn’t going to terminate the pregnancy._

Somewhere between the positive result and throwing up in the shower the next morning, Steve decided two things. First, he really should get that doctor’s appointment, as soon as possible, though for completely different reasons as to why Bucky and Nick were trying to get him to go.

And the second was, that no matter what Tony’s reaction was, or what anyone else said, he wasn’t going to terminate the pregnancy.

He’d heard the horror stories relating to male pregnancies, the complications and low rate of natural child birth. It wasn’t as common as female pregnancy, and while Steve had never known any guy, personally, who’d gotten pregnant, he’d seen them around, and they’d had to watch a documentary about it for health class in sophomore year.

There were risks, but that didn’t negate the fact that, even while he stood there in the shower for far longer than he usually let himself, there was a tiny life growing inside of him. Risks just meant it was even more important to see the doctor.

The very thought of any harm coming to his and Tony’s baby, though the logical side of his brain reminded him that it was little more than a cluster of cells, made his hands move to protectively cover his stomach, as though that in itself would shield that tiny life.

He could do it, have the baby and raise it. It was months off yet, there was time to prepare for becoming a father. He’d be eighteen and finished school before it was born, and he’d make it somehow. It’d be hard work, then, it wasn’t exactly like his life had been easy up until that point, but it’d be worth it. To hold his baby in his arms and make sure it was happy and safe. It’d be all worth it. It’d have to be.

Nick made him an appointment for two that afternoon, and he spent the morning curled up on his bed, with ginger tea and dry toast that Bucky was insisting would help with the nausea. His phone was there, on his desk, and there was the nagging thought that he could just send Tony a message, tell him via text. It was cowardly, he knew that, and he was definitely not a coward. It might have been unfair to go to the first doctor’s appointment without Tony though.

The thought weighed heavily on his mind, but two in afternoon came around sooner than he anticipated, and then he found himself in the doctor’s office. His heart felt like it was beating too fast and his chest felt too tight, but the doctor, a woman in her thirties by the name of Dianne Fielding, was one he’d seen before, and had always been kind and considerate. She talked to him about the risks, some of which he already knew, about the options, and when he made it clear that he was keeping the baby, she wrote him a list of all the prenatal vitamins he should take, and booked him in for an ultrasound Thursday after school.

He had the plan all laid out in his head, to tell Tony Monday, after school, and give him the time and date of the first ultrasound, so he could be there if he wanted to. Then, after that, some time, he’d tell Bucky, and then have to inform the group home, preferably via Nick, but that’d be once he had a definite plan all worked out.

The plan didn’t last long though.

He got back to his room, the stupidly expensive prenatal vitamins all secreted away in a paper bag, clutched tightly in one hand. Bucky was sitting on his bed, text books littered across the bed spread, pen hanging out the corner of his mouth and note book propped on one knee. He looked up, glancing at Steve’s face, then at the bag in his hand, then back at his face, frowning slightly.

“This is going to sound crazy, and I really hope that it is just that,” Bucky paused, tapping his pen against his temple. “You’ve been sick, for over a week now, and no one else has caught it, and this could all just be crazy talk, but–”

Another glance at the paper bag, and he just knew that Bucky knew, that his friend had just worked it out, and there was no way he could deny it.

“Steve? Are you pregnant?”

He couldn’t answer, his throat felt too tight, so he said nothing, instead dropping the bag onto his bed, and starting to rummage through his backpack for his Math homework. It was answer enough in itself. 

“Holy shit! You are.”

At Bucky’s exclamation, Steve jerked his head around, glaring at his friend, though he was sure his panic was showing through. He closed the door quickly, hoping no one was eavesdropping. “Don’t have to shout it.”

He heard the waver in his voice; this wasn’t how he wanted to tell Bucky, hadn’t been part of the plan, but that was too late now. Bucky was giving him an odd look, almost as though he didn’t really know who Steve was anymore, but the edges were etched with concern. It mattered to him what Bucky thought, it might have been Tony’s baby, but if Bucky shunned him, he thought that’d be worse than if Tony wanted nothing to do with him.

Bucky shook his head slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Didn’t even think you’d given up your v-card yet, Stevie.”

He felt his face heating up, but he tried not to feel embarrassed. He didn’t regret losing his virginity to Tony. He didn’t regret that night at all. “Well, it wasn’t immaculate conception.”

“Who was it?” The tone was full of accusation, and when Steve didn’t reply, Bucky continued, “Please, tell me it wasn’t Stark.”

“It wasn’t Tony.” He deadpanned the outright lie, knowing that Bucky would see right through it. But if there was one thing he’d learnt from observing Tony over the years it was that a little bit of snark and sarcasm went a long way towards defending oneself.

Bucky’s gaze snapped back up, glaring. “Liar.”

He shrugged, making a point of standing there, matching Bucky’s gaze. “You didn’t want to hear it.”

The brunette looked like he was about to retaliate, but he sighed instead, shaking his head again. “What are you going to do about it? I mean, there’s a clinic down town, I could go with you if you wanted to, you know, get an abortion.”

His hands curled instinctively over his stomach, gaze flickering over to the chemist bag. The sick feeling was returning, but he was sure part of that was the direction of the discussion, and not all hormone related. “I’m not getting rid of it. I’ve got an ultrasound on Thursday.”

“Stark know? He know you’re keeping it? I mean, shit, Steve, you saw the videos we did, learnt the same stuff, this isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park. It’s dangerous, especially for you.” Bucky got up from his bed, coming across to look inside the bag. “Not doing it by halves are you?”

Steve bristled, snatching the bag back. “Especially for me? I’m not as frail as you pretend, Bucky, you should know that I’m built of tougher stuff.” He took a deep breath, trying to squash down the anger he felt towards Bucky for doubting him, the fear that Bucky really was right, and that things would just go wrong no matter what he did. “Tony doesn’t know. I’m telling him Monday afternoon.”

Bucky looked a little like he’d just been slapped, but after a moment his smiled tentatively. “He gives you a hard time about this and I’ll kick his arse.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. That was the Bucky he knew, protective and loyal to a fault. “I can fight my own fights.”

Bucky’s smile stretched into a cheeky grin, and he reached out, shoving Steve lightly on the shoulder. “Shouldn’t be fighting in your delicate condition.”

It would have been easy to rise to the bait, to shove back and laugh along with Bucky, but he had something else to say first. “You don’t have to agree with what I’m doing, Bucky, but, you’re my best friend, and I hope that means you’ll stick by me, no matter what happens.”

The grin faded, but Bucky slung his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and ruffling his hair with his free hand. “I’ve got your back, Steve, you know that. Always. I’ve punched enough guys to look after your scrawny arse the past couple of years. And since you’re still insisting on getting yourself into stupid situations, I’ll just have to start looking out for your pregnant arse instead. Who knows, you might finally stack on some weight now, eating for two and all that.”

“Shut up, Barnes.” He grumbled half-heartedly, letting his head fall against Bucky’s shoulder, and just taking a moment to enjoy the physical comfort that seemed too little and too far between in his life. There was so much uncertainty, about everything. The baby, how Tony would react, how he’d manage to look after his child when it was born. How he’d even afford it. But, even with all that doubt, at least he knew he’d have Bucky at his back, looking out for both him and the baby. “Thanks, you know. I really appreciate you being my friend, despite everything.”

Bucky huffed a laugh that sounded almost offended. “Of course I’m your friend, dummy. But, in all seriousness, what are you going to tell people? What about Nick and the rest. What if they kick you out?” 

He hadn’t thought that far ahead, had barely even come to terms with being pregnant, the long term plans and bug hurdles seemed irrelevant, until he’d told Tony at least. That way, if Tony wanted to be a part of it, they could do all the planning together. “Don’t know yet. I’ll be eighteen before the baby’s born. Figure something out.”

 

///

 

He messaged Tony Sunday afternoon and asked if they could catch up Monday afternoon.

Classes had finished for the day, but the morning sickness had faded around lunch time, only to be replaced by the nervous churning of his stomach half way through the last class.

Bucky was there, holding his school books for him while he threw up what little lunch he’d managed to eat. He didn’t miss the concerned looks that Bucky had been giving him since Saturday, because he knew that his friend was trying his best not to mother him.

“You alright?” Bucky asked when Steve finally re-emerged from the toilet cubicle.

“Yeah, I’m...”  _Nervous. Scared. Terrified that Tony will freak out and I’ll be all on my own. Terrified that I won’t be able to do this on my own._ ”Fine. Just afternoon sickness. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Bucky fished something out of his pocket, before handing over a packet of chewing gum. “You’re a fighter, hey? Think if I had to puke every day several times, I’d have gone mad.”

Accepting the gum, he gave Bucky a tired smile. “Thought you already were mad.”

Tony was waiting for him at his locker, leaning against it, the way he was fiddling with his phone the only indication that he wasn’t as cool and collected as he wanted to appear.

“Shove ya butt, Stark.” Was Bucky’s greeting as he shouldered Tony out of the way.

Tony staggered to the side, clutching his shoulder dramatically. “Such a bully, Barnes. I don’t know how you could ever be friends with Steve. Speaking of, hey cute stuff. You alright Stevie, look kind of pale there.”

He could sense Bucky bristling beside him, and half expected some kind of over protective outburst from him, but thankfully his friend stayed silent. Tony was looking at him a little too curiously, so he quirked his lips in a smile, before practically diving into the locker in order to pack up his school backpack. “I’m fine.”

There was a muffled snort from Bucky, who was still leaning into his own locker, which might have been a barely disguised “Bullshit.”

“Okay. Um, yeah, that’s good. Very good. So, what did you have in mind for this afternoon? There’s this pretty cool book shoppy cafe kinda thing that’s just opened, if you wanted to check that out, apparently they have a pretty good selection of sci fi novels, and I thought it’d be good to check them out.” Tony leant back against the lockers, tucked in close enough to Steve that he could feel the warmth coming off of him. It was so tempting just to shift a little to the side and press against that warmth.

Finally packing the last of his homework into his back pack, Steve stepped back, closing and locking his locker. “Sounds good.”

“Think I’ll pass.” Bucky interjected, feigning obliviousness, slamming his locker shut as well. “Catch you back at home, alright Steve?”

Steve turned, catching the look that Bucky gave him, the one that quite clearly said ‘call me if you need backup, don’t be a stubborn idiot’. “Yeah, see you back there.”

 

 

Tony was talking nonstop as they walked, but Steve was hardly paying attention. He couldn’t concentrate on the words, and the nervous churning in his stomach was threatening to make him sick again. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around his stomach and press his face against the side of Tony’s neck, feel his arms around him, and just ignore the pressing issues for as long as possible.

That would get him nowhere, and it was better to tell Tony before it became too obvious to hide anymore. Besides, he wasn’t going to run away from this issue. However Tony reacted, he could deal with it. He’d decided to keep the baby, even if it meant raising it all by himself.

They were getting closer to the shopping centre that was closest to the school, there were going to be a lot of people around once they got there. It was probably something they were better off not discussing in a crowded area. Taking a deep breath, he just went for it.

“Tony, we need to talk.”

Tony stopped dead, Steve’s momentum carried him forward another two steps before he stopped and turned to look at Tony. The other boy’s face was guarded, that blank mask that seemed to be there every time he was involved in a confrontation.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Tony’s voice wasn’t masked nearly as well as his face, the first twinges of hurt slipping around the edges of the words.

Steve blinked. “No. That’s not it. Wait. We were dating?”

Tony made a scoffing noise, mouth twisting into what looked to be a cross between a smirk and a sneer. “I don’t just kiss anyone, Steve. What did you think this was?”

His lungs felt a little too tight, mind reeling. He’d been going out with Tony that whole time, and hadn’t even known it. “I don’t know. I’ve never gone out with anyone before. I just thought you...  You never asked.”

“Oh, Steve.” The defensive look slipped off of Tony’s face, replaced by a soft smile, looking slightly nervous. “I was going to, at the party, but you left. I just thought, you let me kiss you at school, and I’ve liked you for ages, you won’t believe how surprised I was when you let me, we had sex, and I never thought that’d happen because you always seemed too good for me. I mean, you’re nice to everyone, but only friends with Barnes and Carter. Didn’t think I ever had a shot at being with you, because you just seem above everyone else, but not in a pretentious way, I don’t even think you realise it. And, I’m babbling, feel free to shut me up any time.”

The words were all jumbling in his head. Tony thought he was too good for him, that was a sentiment he never thought he’d hear. But that wasn’t the most important part. Tony wanted to be his boyfriend, thought he already was, and it was unfair to not tell him what he was getting himself into.

“So, I’ll do this properly this time, so there is no mix ups, okay?” Tony stepped a little closer, bringing one hand up to brush his knuckles against Steve’s cheek. “So, what do you say, Stevie, want to be my boyfriend?”

He wanted to say yes, to just lean into Tony’s touch and enjoy the moment and not worry about the fact that he was pregnant for as long as he could put it off. But there was the ultrasound on Thursday and Tony deserved to know. He took a deep breath, trying to push as much air into his lungs as possible, feeling his chest tighten a fraction too, his pulse thundering slightly erratically in his ears. He just had to say it. Two words, and it’d be out there in the open. Distantly, he wished Bucky was there, just in case things went wrong. But Bucky wasn’t there, and he just had to be brave.

“I’m pregnant.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the bit of a wait. Hope the chapter is worth it. 
> 
> Switching to Tony's POV now, and for the next couple of chapters. This fic will switch between the two boys, but only with a new chapter. I'll try to avoid mid-chapter POV changes.

Tony stopped, his body giving an involuntary jerk, and his hand dropping back uselessly at his side. He stared at Steve, the shorter boy staring right back, eyebrows pinched together slightly in a way that he usually found so adorable, but now it just looked too scared, and pained, and he wanted to smooth that look off of Steve’s face, but his hands wouldn’t lift back up from his sides.

The words, those two words, rattled around in his brain. They shouldn’t have; usually his brain was crammed full of thoughts, but those words triggered only one thought, and that thought alone took up his entire head, and there was nothing else he could think of, other than Steve was pregnant.

Then every other thought that went along with it slammed into the front of his mind, hurting like a physical blow. He’d gotten Steve pregnant. He should have been more careful, should have used protection, should have known better, but he remembered that night, and all he had been able to think about was that he wanted Steve so badly, and Steve had been right there on the bed, and wanting it too. And fuck, he was supposed to be smart, but he’d been so incredibly stupid that night, and now he could have ruined Steve’s life. What were they going to do? What did Steve want to do?

His eyes flickered down, glancing at Steve’s stomach, his memory providing the images of Steve’s ribs, and his narrow hips, and those hollows by his hips bones that that he’d just wanted to kiss and press his thumbs into, and fuck, Steve wasn’t made for being pregnant, and certainly not for childbirth.

Steve wouldn’t want to keep it, surely he wouldn’t, it was too dangerous, and Steve had no family to help him, and that had to be terrifying. If Steve wanted to get an abortion, he’d have to support that, because it was Steve, and he couldn’t ever ask him to put himself at risk, but that didn’t stop the way he went cold inside at the thought.

His baby. Steve was carrying his baby. It was a terrifying and magnificent thought all at once. His heart was beating too fast, but it wasn’t just fear. It was something else. Excitement?

“I just thought I should tell you.” Steve’s words cut through his thoughts, and those blue eyes were looking glassy, his bottom eyelashes damp and clumping together. “I’m going to keep it. I don’t expect anything from you. It’s okay if you don’t want to be involved. I can do this by myself.”

Like hell he would. It was those words, and the unshed tears, and fuck, how long had he been just standing there not saying anything? He needed to stop those tears, and take away the hurt in Steve’s voice that said it was anything but okay, but he knew Steve would do this all by himself if he didn’t step up and take responsibility. He needed to stop the way Steve was holding his shoulders too stiffly, and was turning away from him, walking away, before he could sort out the thoughts in his mind and say something.

“So, is that a yes or a no to being my boyfriend?” He cringed at the sound of his own voice, it sounded so fake, and forced, and satirical. And all it did was cause that pained look to deepen, and those tears to well up more, and Steve to turn away a little faster.

“This isn’t funny, Tony.” Steve’s voice didn’t have its usual fight in it, and even so it felt like a simultaneous punch in the gut and slap across the face.

“No! It’s not. Steve, don’t, just don’t walk away. I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to do, he had to stop Steve from going, from walking away, with his baby, and he felt like if Steve did that he’d never get the chance to be with either of them. His backpack hit the ground and he was reaching out, hands grabbing at Steve’s shoulders and just pulling him back. Arms wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, holding him close, and he was pushing kisses into Steve’s hair, because he had to make this right.

Steve’s body was rigid against his, but he didn’t try to pull away, so he had to take that as a positive. He hooked one hand under the strap of Steve’s backpack, lifting it off of his shoulder and letting it drop to the ground with more care than his had received. One hand ran up and down Steve’s spine, trying to coax him to relax. “I’m sorry sweetie. I, you caught me by surprise, I wasn’t expecting that. You, are you alright? What do you want to do? Are you sure? I mean, I don’t doubt you, but statistics, you know, it’s not common. We’re having a baby? You’re having my baby? You sure you want that?”

Steve let out a small sound, somewhere between a hiccup and a sob, his shoulders shuddering briefly before tensing again. “I said I’m keeping it. You don’t have to agree with that. I can do this by myself if I have to.”

The fight was back in his voice, forced over the top of every other emotion, that determination that Tony had always admired in Steve. “Shhh, I’m not going to make you do this by yourself.”

He felt Steve’s shoulders droop a fraction, and the increase press of his slight weight as he leant closer. There was still something there, like Steve didn’t dare believe him, so he stepped back a fraction, bringing his hands up to cup Steve’s face, and angled it towards him. Blue eyes met his, still misty with unshed tears, and it struck him that Steve was braver than he’d ever imagined. He tried what he hoped was a comforting smile, but his face didn’t really feel like his own. His body didn’t feel like his own, everything about the moment seemed too surreal. Steve was pregnant; he was still trying to wrap his head around that fact, that they were going to have a baby. He only hoped they could do it. But he had to push all his uncertainty and fears aside, Steve needed him, he needed to be strong and confident for both of them. Needed to know what he was doing.

He ducked his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s lips, lingering there until he felt Steve respond. “We should talk. About this, about how we’re going to do this, because, yes, we, we are going to do this, but we need a plan.”

There was the barest hint of a smile on Steve’s lips when he pulled back further, and he wanted to taste it, but Tony knew that they needed to get off of the street where they were standing. “Did you still want to go to that cafe? I could certainly go a coffee, you can’t, pretty sure that’s bad, but hot chocolate for sure.”

Steve’s smile turned momentarily amused, but there was a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “That’d be nice. Thank you.”

 

////

 

He couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder at where Steve was sitting, while he waited for his order to be filled. He couldn’t get over how young Steve looked, and at the same time, incredibly weary. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Tony knew first hand that Steve had been sick. He could only assume that the morning sickness had been hitting him pretty hard.

Guilt surged through him at the thought. It was all his fault, should have been smarter, should have thought about what they were doing. It was too late, hindsight was a complete bitch sometimes, he knew that, and all they could do was make the most of the situation. He’d look after Steve, and the baby, he’d look after them both, the best he could.

“One large extra shot cappuccino and a hot chocolate.”

The barista’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Tony smiled his thanks, collecting the drinks and turning to head towards the booth tucked away in the corner that Steve had chosen. The coffee and chocolate combination smelt heavenly, and it’d been too long a day at school without caffeine. However, it was hard to focus on those small pleasures in life when everything else seemed so big and important, and quite honestly, terrifying. But then Steve was smiling at him, just that small, unsure smile of his, he thought for a moment, when his heart kicked in his chest the way it always did when Steve smiled at him, that maybe they could make it work.

“Thanks, Tony.” Steve said, as he slid into the seat beside him. Part of him thought that he should have sat across from Steve, given him a little more space, but he just wanted to be closer. Ever since the party, he’d wanted to be close to Steve, any chance he could.

He took the chance, reaching out and taking Steve’s hand in his and laced their fingers together. Steve didn’t protest, but his smile faltered as his eyes dropped to look at their hands. There was too much to talk about, too much to plan, Tony’s head was already crammed full of too many questions and not enough answers. He’d have to get a job, somewhere for them to live, or at least Steve and the baby, if Steve didn’t want him there too. So much to talk about, and he just had to say something, something to start them off, something to stop Steve looking like the world was ending.

“You been to the doctor yet? What about an ultrasound? What about vitamins, and things like that? We have to do some research, no, I’ll do it, don’t want you stressing, so much to look up. I’ll find you a really good doctor, okay? The best. Only the best for our baby. I’ll find someone, and make appointment...”

Steve reached over with his free hand and pressed a finger to his lips, stopping the flow of words, before Tony could keep talking around in circles. “I’ve seen one doctor, near to where I live. She’s good, I trust her. I have an ultrasound booked for Thursday after school.”

He swallowed the rest of his words that had settled like a solid lump in his throat. The feeling of not being needed, of being left out, was unjustified, he knew that, but it didn’t make it go away. He knew that Steve was capable and strong, and didn’t really need him, but it still hurt. His fingers tightened around Steve’s, and he couldn’t help but notice the nervous look in Steve’s eyes, when his fingers finally dropped away from his lips. The question that burst out startled him with its urgency.

“Can I come with you?”

Steve blinked at him for a moment, then he practically had a lapful of Steve as the other boy surged closer, lips crashing against his and he could almost taste his relief. It was possible that that was a yes.

Steve backed away again, dropping back onto the seat, his cheeks flushed and so adorable that Tony just had to lean forward and kiss him again. When they drew apart again, he gently extracted his hand from Steve’s and wrapped an arm carefully around his shoulders, pulling him against him, nuzzling into his neck.

“Was that a yes?” He felt Steve nod, and couldn’t stop his smile, pushing a kiss into Steve’s skin. They slotted together rather well, but there was something else he couldn’t stop thinking about. He let his free hand move to just in front of Steve’s stomach, his fingers just skimming over the fabric of his shirt. “Can I?”

Steve tensed slightly against him, shifting in his seat a fraction, but he didn’t pull away. “There’s nothing there, not yet. I mean, it’s only eight or so weeks. I’m not showing yet.”

He knew that. It wasn’t like pregnancy had ever been anything he’d thought to study in depth, always assumed he’d have a few more years before having to worry about something like that, but he did know some things. It didn’t really matter though. “I know. Doesn’t change the fact that our baby is in there.”

Steve’s hand came to cover the back of his, and guided it beneath his shirt to settle just about the waistband of his pants. He thought of the last time he touched Steve there, and despite the slight jolt in sent through the pit of his stomach, there was nothing sexual about the contact. It was a moment, both scary and sweet. His heart wanted to freeze in his chest at the same time it wanted to beat triple the speed. There was nothing to feel except the slight rise and fall of every breath Steve took. But it didn’t matter. His baby - their baby - was in there, growing and developing, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d be able to look at Steve and see the way the baby was growing.

He rubbed his hand in a slow motion, back and forth, over Steve’s stomach, as if there was a way of transmitting the message to their unborn baby that it was going to be loved and protected. “We’re going to do this, aren’t we? Together?”

Steve slumped back against his, finally relaxing, and let his head fall back against Tony’s shoulder. “If that’s what you want. I’m not going to force you into being part of this. But, but it’d be nice, having you with me.”

“I’m already part of this, Steve. Not going to make you do this alone.” He wanted to keep holding onto Steve until he knew he believed him. Wanted to hold onto him forever, look after him and make sure he never wanted for anything. They could do this, have a baby, raise a child, together. They’d make it work, he was sure of that. Even with all the hurdles they’d come across.

“Have you told anyone else?” He asked the question without even knowing if he really wanted to know the answer. They’d have to tell other people, it wasn’t like it was something they could hide. The thought of telling Rhodey and Pepper and the lectures that’d no doubt earn him made him want to cringe, and he didn’t even want to consider the backlash of telling Howard. At least not until he had a solid plan.

“Bucky guessed. I couldn’t lie to him.” Steve sounded apologetic, fingers absently trailing across the back of his hand. “I’ll have to tell the home. Sooner rather than later.”

The mix of petty jealousy and fear was like a physical blow. He shouldn’t have been jealous that Bucky found out first. He was Steve’s best friend, and they did live together at the group home. Steve’s morning sickness was evident enough at school, he could only imagine it was even worse before coming to school. It was the fear though, of the backlash of the group home finding out, that made him hold Steve a fraction tighter. “I can be there when you do, if you want. So they know that you’re not doing this alone and that I’m with you. Never know, could help.”

Steve tipped his head, lips brushing against the back of the hand Tony had draped over his shoulder. “Thank you. I want to do it on a weekend, when Nick is there. I trust him, he looks out for Bucky and me. I just wish I could have told her.”

It wasn’t the first time that he thought about Steve losing his mother; he remembered the weeks Steve had missed from school, the funeral he still regretted not attending. He didn’t know what to say, so he just pulled Steve closer against him, his hand pressed against his stomach, and he couldn’t help feeling sad that their baby had grandparents it’d never know.

“You going to tell your parents?” Steve’s voice sounded strained but he wasn’t about to pick him up on that.

“Yeah. I think I might tell my mother after we get the ultrasound. We can get one of those pictures printed out, so I can show her.” It seemed like the best way to tell his mother, even though it would be hard. He wasn’t sure he knew her well enough to gauge her reaction, but it would be better to tell her soon. It was a relief when Steve didn’t ask about when he was going to tell his father. Telling Howard was something else entirely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. 
> 
> As always a huge thanks to quandong for the beta work.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of Steve’s hand in his, their fingers tangled together, and the images on the screen. The echoes of ultrasonic sound bouncing back and creating images of greenish white against black on that screen. It was so simple as a visual, yet so complicated. Fascinating, mesmerising, he could barely take his eyes off of it, and even without looking, he knew that Steve was staring at the screen too.

It was their baby. On the screen. Replicated through sound. But it was their baby. Tiny and almost unrecognisable, just splodges of greenish white, outlines against a darker background, but there was no denying what it was. 

Steve’s hand was trembling in his, and he couldn’t help but bring it up and press a kiss to the dip between his first and second knuckles. Pulling back a fraction, so his lips still grazed against Steve’s skin he murmured what he knew they were both thinking. “That’s our baby, Stevie.”

Steve’s fingers tightened around his, and it didn’t matter the judging looks they’d been given when they filled out the paperwork, the looks that he knew were because they were too young. He knew that, they were only seventeen, he didn’t need other people to judge him or Steve based on that. It was frightening enough, knowing what he’d done to Steve, what it meant for their lives.

He’d had three days to think it all over since Steve had told him. Three nights of staying up too late, trying to put together a plan, researching everything he could about male pregnancy, and all its risks until he could barely look at Steve without feeling the anxiety and fear start to well up inside him. He had to squash it down though, because Steve needed him to be strong. Three days of watching Steve, with dark circles under his eyes, looking pale and queasy every morning, and occasionally having to bolt outside or to the bathroom if something set him off. He followed, despite the dark looks from Bucky, there to rub Steve’s back as he threw up, and with an ever handy water bottle. They started spending more time together, sitting together at lunch, since they were officially boyfriends, and by Wednesday lunch time, Pepper and Rhodey were sitting with him and Steve, getting along frighteningly well with Bucky and Peggy. Bucky was still the only one who knew and Steve seemed confident that he wouldn’t talk about it to anyone, but Tony wasn’t quite sure he’d ever truly be forgiven for getting Steve pregnant.

“...and based on the crown to rump length, it looks like you’re about ten weeks along.”

The ultrasound technician’s voice snapped Tony back to the moment, his head spinning for a moment until it settled that she was talking gestational age, rather than exact time since conception. He’d read about it, read everything he could about anything he could get his hands on, up all night until his eyes stung and he’d drank almost his weight in coffee. 

The image on the screen had frozen, capturing their baby in a still frame. It didn’t look like much, yet. He knew what it was, that little blobby shape which reminded him of a jellybean, even if it barely resembled a human baby yet. It was alien, and yet, he’d never felt such a surge of protectiveness over something ever before.

“Can we get a print out, please?” Steve croaked, voice raw with emotion, and Tony couldn’t help but look over at his boyfriend; blue eyes wide and staring, cheeks slightly flushed, the look of mixed fear and wonder.

“Two.” He tried to smile at Steve, lips dragging up on one side, and it earned him that adorable smile in return. “No point us only having one. Just in case my mother wants to keep one.”

They left, after the pictures had printed out and Steve had wiped all the conductive gel off of his skin. Tony had one of the printouts in his pocket, fingers tracing the edge of it carefully, his other hand linked with Steve’s.

“I need to get a job.” He wasn’t really sure that he’d spoken a loud until Steve replied; the thought was going over and over in his head all the time, along with a million others.

“You’re still in school, Tony. Don’t get too carried away.” Steve gave him a look, somewhat unsure.

He shook his head, his brain crammed full of ideas swirling around and around. “But I need to. Get a job, so I can get us a house. Or an apartment, it’s entirely up to what you want. Something up town, close to everything, or something in the suburbs, with backyard and a garden. Whatever you want. Maybe I should even grow a beard, so that at least one of us looks old enough to be a father.”

Steve’s hand tightened around his, his stride determinedly not faltering at all. The tension in his back and shoulders was tangible. “Do you think we’re too young?”

Tony stopped, tugging Steve around to face him. He wanted to say something, something that was reassuring, encouraging, that would eradicate the pinched look on Steve’s face. But he didn’t know what to say. They were only young. “We’re only seventeen. A lot of people might say that we’re too young.”

Steve’s frown deepened, lips a tight line, jaw clenched like he was fighting not to say anything. He tugged his hand, trying to release it from Tony’s grip, starting to turn away. “No one is forcing you to do this, Tony. You could have just walked away.”

He planted his feet, hanging on to Steve’s hand and pulling him to an abrupt stop again, but didn’t press the point when Steve didn’t fully turn back to face him. “Wait, Steve, fuck, that isn’t what I’m saying. We’re in this. Together. You stand up for the little guy, and that,” he stepped closer, letting go of Steve’s hand to place his hand over his stomach instead, the image of the sonogram still etched into his mind, “It doesn’t get much littler than this little sea monkey.”

He felt Steve relax, leaning back against him, and it was automatic the way his other arm wrapped around Steve in response. They’d do it together. He’d promised that. But it didn’t stop the panic welling up inside him, because there was still so much that could go wrong. No amount of saying things confidently out loud would change the fact that they were taking on a huge, and challenging endeavour.

 

///

 

The room smelt like her perfume, the way it always did, and he could remember the times he’d sneak in there as a kid to lie on the bed next to his mum while she worked. The papers she used to spread across the bedspread, spilling out from the open sleek leather case, had been replaced instead with a laptop, and while there would have been plenty of room for him to crawl up onto the bed beside her, Tony didn’t move from the doorway.

“Anthony, it’s late, shouldn’t you be in bed?” His mother only glanced up briefly from her laptop, fingers continuing to dance across the keys, and he could only assume she was compiling a report from the Amnesty International conference she’d just come home from. He could have replied that he would have been in bed, only he’d waited up to talk to her, but that would probably have been a lie. He still didn’t feel calm, hadn’t ever since he’d seen that image on the screen, seen the shapes greenish white against black, that made up his baby. Though the thrill of seeing that had morphed into the nervousness associated with telling his mother.

He had the sonogram clasped between his hands, and it reminded him of being a little kid and holding a report card that he was proud of, but was never quite sure if it’d be good enough. He had to take a deep breath, and remind himself that at least he still had parents to tell.

“Mamma, I’ve got something to tell you.” He took the step into the room, and it half pleased him, half terrified him when his mother closed the laptop lid and set it down beside for on the bed.

“Is everything alright, Tony?”

“That depends how you react I guess.” The nervous laugh that bubbled in his chest died before it even passed his lips, and he pushed on. He’d start with Steve, that was easy enough, since she knew already that he liked boys. “There’s this boy, Steve, he’s sort of my boyfriend, we had a bit of a mix up to start with, because I never asked him out, and he’s never dated anyone before, and yeah, but we’re boyfriends now. And the thing is, he’s, he’s pregnant.” 

To her credit Maria Stark didn’t look horrified. She blinked once, then removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes, shifting so she was sitting on the edge of the bed and regarded her son. “Is it yours?”

Of all the reactions, Tony should have considered calm and level headed as a possibility, but his mind had blown everything up to astronomical proportions and all worst case scenarios. He nodded, because there wasn’t even a single shred of doubt in his mind that that baby was his. Maybe there should have been, simply for the fact that he believed in evidence and results, and testing theories. But Steve had told him that it had been his first time, and Steve wasn’t a liar. It was his. His and Steve’s.

“I thought you would be more sensible than that, Anthony, you’re a smart boy.” His mother set her glasses down, brow creased, but she didn’t look mad, or even particularly disappointed. “Have you both, or has he, decided what you’re going to do?”

The question was a relief, it distracted from the hint of disappointment in her voice and the internal berating his mind was about to start up again. It was a question he could answer, plans he’d already started formulating. He’d worked it out roughly, the baby would be born around August, they graduated the beginning of June, that was still five months away, giving them at the most, two months after school finished to get everything ready. Not that he’d let it wait until the last minute. 

“Steve wants to keep it.” As soon as he saw the frown he knew it was probably the wrong wording. “It’s his choice overall, Mamma. We’re keeping it. I’m - I’m not leaving him to do it by himself. I really like him Mamma, and I want to look after him. Want to look after them both. I will get a job, and find a place to live. Baby isn’t due until August, so it gives us time to organise things.”

His mother nodded, giving him a small smile. “You’re a good boy, Anthony. Growing up too quickly.”

“Mamma?” He didn’t know what to make of what she said, or the way she smiled. He might have been seventeen, but he still hadn’t stopped wanting to gain approval, to know he was doing the right thing. Just wanting that attention. The affirmation that he was really doing the right thing, even though he knew that even if his mamma had reacted badly, he wouldn’t have changed his mind.

Maria stood up, stepping delicately across the room to stand in front of her son, both hands resting on his shoulders. “It seems like only yesterday that you were my little boy, and somehow, when I wasn’t watching, you’ve grown up so much. I always hoped for grandchildren, my Antonio, thought I’d be waiting a lot longer.”

He found himself bringing the sonogram up to show his mamma the first image of his baby. Her fingers left his shoulder to curl around the edge of the image, her eyes growing damp and misty, and for the first time in what felt like years, he found himself wrapped in his mamma’s arms, pulled close to her, with her perfume and warmth enveloping him. He tried not to cling desperately in response, all the fears and anxieties surging up again, the need to just let go and let his mamma take his place as the strong one was almost too much to squash down.

“Oh, Tonio, my gorgeous boy, you look after Steve and that precious little baby he’s carrying.” Maria pulled back slightly, eyes damp, but makeup still perfectly intact. She pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead, smiling gently. “You should bring him over so I can meet him, talk to him and make sure everything is alright, it can be a lot to take on, being pregnant. How’s he handling it all? Does he have his parent’s support?”

It was easier to talk about Steve than his own fears, of Steve getting hurt, of the baby not being okay. Of him not being good enough to take care of them. It was easier to tell his mother everything he knew about Steve, and all the things that Steve had said. About his mother’s death and the group home. About the morning sickness and how tired he looked. It was easy up until his mamma mentioned telling his father, and then it all became so much more complicated. Howard wouldn’t react the same way his mamma had. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to Obie first, because Uncle Obie was easier to talk to, and it’d be better to ask him about getting on the actual payroll, rather than his father.

Later though. He and Steve had agreed to tell the carer who took the weekend shift on Saturday, to get it out of the way. There was a level of dread there at the prospect of telling the group home, it wasn’t like telling a parent, but he was pretty sure that Steve would be alright, that they wouldn’t kick him out.

He messaged Steve after he went to bed that night, since it was too late to call him, telling him that his mamma wanted him to come over Saturday morning, once he was feeling well enough. He briefly mentioned his mamma’s reaction, and might have over done it with the kiss x’s at the bottom of the message, but if it got a smile out of Steve it’d be worth it, even if he didn’t get to see it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Friday after school, Tony headed straight to Stark Industries, finding Obadiah in his office._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble) for the beta work. 
> 
> Thanks to [3White_Mage3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3) and [jujitsuelf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf) for all the continued support and cheerleading.   
> Thanks to the elf lady this fic is actually still going, because she won't let me give up on it. 
> 
> This chapter has been known as the awkward chapter of awkward blowjobs. AKA Maria Stark is actually pretty awesome. Or Stane is a creeper whose gotta creep.

Friday after school, Tony headed straight to Stark Industries, finding Obadiah in his office. His father’s office was dark and shut up, as it always was when Howard was away. Other than the fact that he knew he had to tell his father, especially since he’d already told his mamma, it seemed easier to talk to Obadiah about it while Howard wasn’t there.

“Hey, Obie, how’s it going?” He started talking as soon as he got through the door, after flashing his best smile at Obie’s secretary.

His father’s business partner, the closest thing to an uncle he ever had, looked up from behind his computer, smiling as though he was genuinely pleased to see Tony. “Tony my boy, what brings you over this way? Get those plans all finalised?”

Tony shook his head, dropping, unceremoniously, into the chair the other side of Obadiah’s desk, folding his hands behind his head. “Not yet, had some other things going on.” In truth the designs he’d been working on had been left forgotten on his computer since Monday. The time he usually spent working one them, once all his homework was done, had been taken up scouring pages and pages of information about pregnancy. It didn’t matter how much he read, he still felt like he had no idea what they were doing.

“I need a favour, Obie, ‘cept it isn’t really a favour, just, whatever, I need a job. I want to be put officially on the payroll, and get paid for all my designs. And any other work I do.” He was trying for casual, but his left leg had started jiggling, rapidly bouncing up and down, and he had to sit forward again to stop it.

Obadiah’s smile faltered, a frown beginning to form. “What on earth do you need a job for, Tony? You’re still in school, and what about college?”

Tony fidgeted slightly, fingers tapping a pattern out onto his thigh. “I’ll work around school hours, and college, or I might take a year off. I need the job., and I need an apartment, house, penthouse, condo, whatever, I just need somewhere to live that isn’t home.”

The frown was there in full force, but edged with concern, and that was why Tony had come to talk to Obie first, because he cared enough hear him out.

“Tony, Tony, why do you need to move out of home? Have you been arguing with your father again? If Howard is trying to kick you out, I’ll talk some sense into him.”

He shook his head hastily, feeling even more jittery than before. It had been easier telling his mamma than it was telling Obie. “No, it’s got nothing to do with Howard and everything to do with me. I’m, I’m going to be a father. In August. I need to be able to look after the baby.”

It was probably one of the only times he’d seen Obie look genuinely shocked. “What about the mother?”

He cringed internally at the idea of calling Steve a mother, despite the fact that he was pregnant, it just didn’t seem to fit. “Steve. Steve’s my boyfriend. I need to look after him too. Need a place were we all can live.”

“Tony,” Obie sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Tony, Tony, Tony. What are you doing to yourself, my boy? Are you sure that this is the right choice? You’re so young. Think of your future.”

The words weren’t what he wanted to hear, but the tone wasn’t unkind. Obie cared about him, he knew that, and he knew, given time, Obie would care about his child too. But he was a businessman first and foremost, and always practical.

“We’re keeping it. Steve and I. We want this baby. It might have been an accident, but it’s not a mistake. Please, Obie, I need you’re help on this. Mamma knows, but I don’t know how to tell Howard. Just help me set this all up, so I can go to him with a solid plan.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm down his racing heart, and he’d be surprised if Obie had even understood half of what he said, given how quickly his words had all tumbled out. He stood up from the chair, pacing the length of the desk.

Obie stood up from his chair, rounding his desk and catching Tony’s shoulders halting him, before pulling him into what could only be described as a bear hug. “Alright Tony, just calm down. I’ll talk to HR and see what we can do. Don’t stress, my boy, Uncle Obie will make sure everything is just fine.”

 

///

 

He was nervous. It was crazy how nervous he was, and it was illogical, he knew that, really it was. It was just Steve. Meeting his mamma. But it was just Steve. They’d been naked together. They’d had sex. They were having a baby. All those things should have negated the nervousness. But it didn’t. He was still unsure about how the events would play out.

It wasn’t that that had him hovering near the front door, waiting for Steve to arrive. He’d wanted to send Happy around to pick Steve up, but the stubborn – adorable – idiot had insisted that he could find his own way there, once the morning sickness had settled down for the day. He was there because he missed Steve. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, but since Monday afternoon, he’d felt perpetually torn between wanting to runaway from Steve, and wanting to wrap himself around the other boy and protect him from the world. He wasn’t going to abandon him though, he knew that, despite that lingering feeling that all he’d do was ruin everything. He just had to stay, and try his best, do better than his best.

The doorbell rang, and he had shot off of the step he was sitting on and skidded to the door before Jarvis even had a chance to enter the foyer. He opened the door a tad harder than it needed to be and couldn’t help the jolt in his chest at the sight of Steve standing there, rugged up in a jacket, and beanie against the cold wind.

“Hey gorgeous.” His voice sounded a little too breathy, but he didn’t really care, more interested in ushering Steve inside and helping him out if his jacket.

“Hi.” Steve smiled at him, lips bright against his slightly too pale skin, as though he hadn’t quite gotten over the queasy feelings yet.

He couldn’t help it, as soon he’d hung up Steve’s jacket he pulled the shorter boy towards him, wrapped his arms around his shoulders and just hugged him. “Missed you.”

Steve huffed a laugh, arms wrapping around his waist in return, head resting against his shoulder. “It’s only been a day. You’ve gone weekends without seeing me before. All of Christmas break.”

Tony shifted slightly, tilting his head to press a kiss to any part of Steve he could reach, and ended up with his nose in Steve’s hair. “It’s different now.”

Steve tensed slightly, but didn’t pull away. “You only like me because I’m carrying your baby?”

He could hear the worry in the edge of Steve’s voice and kicked himself mentally for the poor choice of words. “Don’t be a goof. I liked you plenty before. I like you plenty still. I just worry more now. Worry when I can’t see that you’re alright.”

He drew back enough to look at Steve and tried to give him his best reassuring smile, but he was pretty sure all the stress, his fears and doubts, would somehow show around the corners of it. He couldn’t let Steve see that, so he pressed a kiss to those pink lips before finally letting go. “C’mon, Mamma wants to meet you. She’s made tea too, I think, something herbal and full of flowers no doubt, probably something she drank when she was pregnant with me.”

Steve’s face creased slightly, but it was the only indication that he wasn’t anything but perfectly calm as he caught Tony’s hand in his and let him lead them further into the house.

 

Tony watched as his mamma fussed over Steve. There was no other way to describe it, it was fussing. But it wasn’t the same as her stressed ‘they’ll be here any minute’ kind of fussing that he was used to seeing in the lead up to parties and functions. Or the feigned interest he’d seen her have over the other women who would fill the house at such events. His mamma was genuinely fussing about Steve, making sure he was comfortable, wasn’t too cold, had had enough to eat and drink. She asked him about appointments, vitamins, and whether he was getting enough sleep. They talked about morning sickness and his mamma gave Steve a list of alternative things to try that might help, and she’d dragged out a heap of her pregnancy and baby books and they flicked through those.

He watched them, feeling very much the outsider, part of him coiled up tight and wanting to snatch Steve back away, but he wasn’t sure if that was because he wanted Steve’s attention or his mamma’s. He didn’t remember a time when she’d paid that much attention to him, when she wasn’t rushed and in a hurry to get somewhere else, or needing to make a phone call, or looking at photos and writing reports about other people’s children in other countries that seemed closer to her heart than he ever would be. And now it was Steve who was getting all the attention, and he felt like the small spoiled brat part of him wanted to jump up and down and yell and demand someone notice that he was there too. That it was his baby too, and he was scared, and uncertain, and terrified of hurting Steve or the baby. He hated himself for getting Steve pregnant, for making him look so sick and tired, and for messing up his life, and more than anything he wanted someone to tell him that it was all going to be okay. That they’d be alright. And he wanted his mamma to look at him and see all of that, to hug him like she used to when he was little, to say she still loved him and that she was proud of him and that she’d be there for him. He wanted her to look at him the way she was looking at Steve.

He felt awful for it. The rational, logical part of him told the emotional jealous part of him to shut up and go sit in the corner. He shouldn’t have felt jealous, because he knew, more than anything, that Steve needed this. This was how a mother talked to their child when they were expecting. It was the love and support that Steve needed that he wasn’t going to get anywhere else. He couldn’t give Steve this kind of support. Bucky couldn’t. None of their friends could. It was something only a mother could provide, and Steve’s was dead, so what right did Tony Stark have to take away his mamma from Steve too. He’d been sharing her his whole life with every one else who wanted her attention, and with children in third world countries that she’d never even met, so he could share her with Steve. Should want to share her with Steve, because Steve needed her more than he did. They both needed her, and their baby would need her, and he should just be grateful that she was going to be there for all of them. But he still felt the jealousy, simmering low, but still there, and he hated himself for it.

 

///

 

It was a relief to get away from his mamma, at least for the time being, and drag Steve up to his room between cups of nettle tea and lunch that his mamma insisted Steve stay for. They had to go around to the group home later, to tell them what was going on. Steve had said he wanted to tell them sooner rather than later, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to face a guy by the name of Fury just yet. He was responsible though, and he would own up to his actions. He wasn’t leaving Steve to deal with it alone.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Tony collapsed face first onto his bed, burying his face in the quilt, and wishing for a moment that he could just sleep. He was pretty sure that he hadn’t slept more than a few hours all week. Not since Monday.

“Your mother is really nice.” The bed dipped as Steve sat on the edge of it.

The note of sadness in Steve’s voice made the jealousy he’d felt before settle like a weight in his stomach. He kicked off his shoes, wriggling on the bed until he lay the right way up and fully on the bed. Patting the spot next to him he waited for Steve to join him. “Yeah, she seems to have taken to you too. Think she’s secretly loving the idea of being a nonna.”

Steve crawled onto the bed, settling down close by, but not touching. Tony opened one eye, rolling over onto his side to look at the shorter boy. Steve’s cheeks had a bit more colour to them than before, almost like he was blushing. He wriggled a little closer, reaching one arm out and resting his hand low on Steve’s stomach, the fabric of Steve’s button up shirt soft beneath his fingers. The ultrasound images still played in his memory, and lying like that, with his hand on Steve’s stomach, he felt closer to that cluster of cells that was forever multiplying and expanding, slowly growing to form a human being. They’d created life, quite accidentally, but it didn’t negate the fact that they were going to be parents.

He shifted closer still, propped up on his elbow to look down at his boyfriend. Steve lay there, blue eyes watching him, lips curved into a half smile. He reached one hand up, threading his fingers through Tony’s hair.

“You’re lucky to have her on your side.” Steve whispered the words into the space between them, smile turning sad and wistful.

He kissed Steve, because he couldn’t stand to see him sad, because he didn’t want to talk about his mamma, or for Steve to think about how he didn’t have one. He kissed Steve softly, before nuzzling into his neck and kissing the warm skin there. The memory of the taste of Steve’s skin and sweat from that night invaded his senses. Two months and he could still remember the taste of Steve’s sweat, the cadence of his breathing. He replayed it in his mind so often since that night, and those times when he couldn’t sleep, but didn’t want to design or study or research, he’d lay in bed and jerked off to the memory of Steve’s legs wrapped around him, the tight heat around him and those needy, breathy little noises he didn’t think Steve was aware he was making.

He kissed Steve’s neck again, the hollow of his throat, any bare bit of skin he could get without unbuttoning Steve’s shirt at all. Scraping his teeth gently against Steve’s skin earned something akin to a whimper, and Steve shifted on the bed, as though he was suddenly uncomfortable. Tony moved his hand, letting it slip beneath Steve’s shirt, sliding across his stomach, feeling muscles tense beneath his fingers.

“Tony...” Steve’s voice came out not quite a whine, body shifting on the bed again.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He whispered against Steve’s neck, not bothering to raise his head at all. He could feel the warmth of arousal starting to seep through him, spurred on by the memories of that night at Rhodey’s party.

Steve’s hand settled on his shoulder, fingers fisting around the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling it tight. “You, you should stop. It’s, it’s very dis-distracting.”

He could hear it then, the quicker rate of Steve’s breathing, the strain at the edge of his voice, that hint of denial, and all it took was to let his hand drift lower for confirmation. His palm ran over the hard line of Steve’s erection caught inside his pants, earning a startled, lusty gasp from the blond. He pressed his hand down a little harder and Steve let out a needy keen, hips jerking up off of the bed in search of more pressure.

He pushed himself back up, looking down at Steve on the bed, his face flushed with embarrassment and he couldn’t help but place a kiss on one blush warmed cheek. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”

Steve’s blush darkened, but his eyes were wide with hope and want, telling the desire he tried to hide behind words. “Only if you want to. I’ll be okay if you don’t.”

“Of course I want to.” He smirked, letting his fingers hook around the button of Steve’s pants, slowly working it loose and starting to push them down. “I think you’ll like this.”

Steve’s hands quickly joined his in pushing his pants down, wriggling until they were bunched at his knees. Tony shimmied down the bed, trailing kisses across Steve’s exposed stomach, skin soft beneath his lips. He let his teeth catch on the rise of Steve’s hip bone, earning himself a whimper in response. There were words buzzing around in his head, things he could say to Steve, but none of them sounded right, like they’d only cheapen the experience. He didn’t want to do that, so he pressed a kiss to the bulge of Steve’s erection beneath the layer of cotton of his underwear.

Steve’s hips bucked up off of the bed, his hands skittering across the bedspread, before his fingers curled to fists around it. He couldn’t help the smirk that played across his lips, if that was the reaction he got from such a simple touch, he couldn’t wait to see how everything else he had planned was received. Fingers hooked under the elastic band, he tugged Steve’s underwear down, hearing the relieved hiss the other boy let out as his erection was freed.

He took a deep breath, trying to settle his racing heart and push down the nervousness and uncertainty that was starting to settle in. He’d only done this a couple of times before, with Ty, the previous summer, when Steve was still so far out if reach and sharing alcohol and cigarettes with Ty turned into something else. He’d done a lot of things with Ty. Explored and tried things, until Ty had had to go back home to start college. Not that he wanted to think about Ty, not when Steve was lying there on his bed, hands fisted around his quilt, breathing a little too rapidly even though he hadn’t started anything yet.

So he didn’t think. He told his mind to shut up and reached up slightly to place his right hand on Steve’s stomach, just below his navel, covering up that faint trail of hair, and briefly letting the greenish black and white sonogram images play behind his eyelids. His left hand curled around the base of Steve’s erection, a tremble running through the blond’s body as he guided it up and carefully let his lips part around the head, sucking perhaps a little harder than he’d intended.

The moan that he felt reverberate through Steve’s body, as well as heard, almost made him come in his own pants. It took a split second to regain composure, and then he couldn’t help the way the corners of his lips curled up, because there was something incredibly satisfying about knowing that he was the catalyst of that sound. He took more of Steve into his mouth, letting his cheeks hollow, but not pushing it to the point of gagging.

He could feel Steve’s stomach muscles tensing under his hand, his hips jerking up sporadically and he tried to move with it, matching the slide of his hand with the motion of his head. He got wrapped up in the smell of Steve, the faint hint of soap that still lingered, the feel of it all, the way his jaw stretched, the weight against his tongue. The sounds Steve was making were intoxicating, breathy and needy, half whines and quietly muttered words he wasn’t even sure he could make out. It was impulse, and the memory of Steve’s fingers tugging at his hair that night at the party that had him lifting his hand off of Steve’s stomach and reaching for one of his hands. It took a little to encourage Steve’s fingers to finally let go of the bedspread, but a moment later they were cautiously tangling in his hair. The touch was gentle and cautious, but Tony wasn’t sure if he could push Steve for more just yet, it’d be something to build up to.

He could hear Steve’s breathing grow more ragged, felt his fingers pressing harder to the back of his head, but still not forceful. He sucked harder, hollowing his cheeks and taking in as much as he could. His own erection strained against the fly of his jeans, the little bit of friction he gained by pushing his hips down against the mattress not quite enough, but it wasn’t about him. It was about Steve, and making him feel good. Making him feel special. An apology for the jealousy he’d unjustly felt, for the morning sickness that Steve had to endure. For not being more careful.

“Tony, s-stop, you’re going to make me come.” Steve’s voice was strained, and he knew he was concentrating too much, not just enjoying it.

Tony didn’t stop, wouldn’t, he had to bite back the “that’s the idea, sweetheart”, but only because he couldn’t afford to stop. He tightened his grip slightly, increasing pace until he heard Steve’s breath catch, felt his hips buck upward and his spine arching. The thick bitter, salty liquid filled his mouth and he swallowed instinctively before he choked. He kept sucking, slower, hand moving languidly in time until Steve’s fingers went slack in his hair and his body settled back against the bed.

Tony took a moment to just breathe, his forehead resting against Steve’s thigh before he looked up. Steve was lying there, one hand over his face, and it took Tony far too long to realise that Steve’s face was flushed with embarrassment, and not just from his orgasm.

“Steve? Gorgeous? What’s wrong?” He crawled back up the bed, dropping down beside Steve, causing the bed to bounce. He reached out, lifting Steve’s hand gently away from his face, and all but forcing the other boy to let him tangle their fingers together.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” Steve’s cheeks burnt red, his eyes not quite meeting Tony’s. “I tried to warn you.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his chest, leaning in to press a kiss to one blazing cheek. “Don’t be a dud. I wanted you to do that. Wanted to make you feel good. You did enjoy it, right?”

Steve blinked at him, relaxing a fraction before tensing up again and hastily pulling his pants and underwear back up again, as though he’d suddenly realised he was still exposed. “Yeah. I did.”

Silence stretched out between them for a moment, Steve’s breathing settling back to normal, and Tony just let his eyes close, wriggling a little closer so he could press his nose against Steve’s neck, his arm looping back around his waist.

He was drifting, not quite asleep, his own arousal slowly subsiding when he heard Steve’s faint whisper, “Do you want me to do that to you?”

“Not now.” It didn’t matter that he was still half hard, it wasn’t about him, not that time, it was about Steve. “Just stay here with me for a bit. It’ll be lunch soon, but I don’t want to move until I absolutely have to.”

Steve huffed a laugh, or maybe a sigh of relief, Tony wasn’t really sure, but a moment later he felt Steve turn towards him, one hand settling on his hip, lips brushing too gently against his forehead. He just tugged the other boy a little closer, held him a little tighter, and thought if he could hold him long enough, it’d make up for the fact he’d rarely get to do that. Not unless he could get that house, and convince Steve to move in with him. He’d think about that later, but for a moment, he wanted to just enjoy the fact that Steve was with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked, loved, hated, felt indifferent towards, wanted to kill with fire? Whatever the reaction, let me know, comments make my day, and will maybe convince me to write faster. :)
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr](http://saralhylor.tumblr.com/) for all sorts of random things. I post some drabbles up there, starts of fics that I'm working on, titles I'm giving away, random dialogue I think of, and I'm going to try and keep a posts of how I'm progressing with this fic. So, if you're interested, I'm there.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks to the [elf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf), the [mage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3) and the [iconic Australian dessert](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble) for all the continued love and support. I still have no idea how they manage to like this story, but I'm not about to argue :)
> 
> Thanks to [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble) for all the beta work. Lovely working with you as always.

The silence that stretched around the room was deafening. It radiated and pulsed out from where Fury sat behind his desk, wrapping around the room and Steve felt like it was trying to suffocate him. Even with Tony beside him, fingers twitching and tapping against the back of the hand he held, and Bucky leaning against the closed door with a feigned casual air, he wasn’t sure if he could survive long enough for someone else to speak.

He could still taste the words he’d spoken. Each syllable sour on his tongue making his mouth dry and impossible to swallow. He wouldn’t take the words back even if he could. He knew he had to tell Fury, and sooner was definitely better than later. The support Maria had offered him, all but smothered him with, had only encouraged the thought that he could actually go through with having this baby, that it wasn’t such a daunting, terrifying prospect. One that he was sure, despite everything he’d said, that Tony would realise the full weight of the situation and that would be the end of their fragile relationship. It couldn’t last. It was too new and too uncertain, and on top of that there were seven months until the baby was born. Tony would leave, somewhere before then, because there was so much more Tony Stark could do with his life if he wasn’t saddled with Steve and a baby.

Fury put his pen down very carefully on the table, his good eye looking pointedly at each of them, assessing and judging. Steve wouldn’t have been surprised if, within those few seconds, Fury had gathered all the information he needed from them and picked apart their deepest secrets.

“So, which one of you two idiots is responsible for this?”

Tony flinched beside him, and all he could do was cling tighter to his hand.

“That would be me.” Tony sounded too confident, too calm, but his fingers were starting to cut off the circulation to Steve’s hand.

Fury glared at Tony for a moment, before his gaze shifted over to Bucky. “Then what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?”

Bucky didn’t shift away from where he leant against the door, but even without looking Steve knew he was coiled tight and ready to spring into action if he thought he had to. “Moral support, sir. And also to kick your arse if you do anything to Steve.”

Fury shook his head slowly, sighing like a disappointed parent, but essentially ignored Bucky’s comment in favour of looking back at Steve. “So what are you going to do about this?”

“I’m keeping it.” Steve took a deep breath, and stood up as straight as he could, keeping his gaze levelled on Fury, even though he could feel Tony shift beside him. He could feel Tony looking at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Tony. He wasn’t sure what he’d see if he did look, but Tony’s hand didn’t lessen its grip on his.

Fury glanced between him and Tony, leaning forward to rest his arms on the desk, hands linked together in front of him. “Is that so?” He shifted to look directly at Tony. “What about you? What are you going to do?”

“ _We’re_ keeping it.”

The inflection in Tony’s voice, the emphasis he put on the first word made something bubble up inside Steve’s chest. Something panicked, flighty and fragile and he had to push it back down because he didn’t know how to deal with that feeling just then, not standing in a room with Tony and Bucky and Fury scrutinizing his every expression.

“I know you,” Fury was still talking to Tony, almost as though there was no one else in the room. “You’re Maria Stark’s boy. She’s a good person.”

Tony shifted a little beside him, and Steve tried desperately to focus on what was happening in that room at that time, and not the longing, aching feeling that filled his chest when he thought about how nice Maria Stark had been to him. She hadn’t had to be nice, but she was, and it had hurt how much it had made him miss his own mother.

“Guess you’d know her through one of the foundations, hey?” Tony’s voice sounded too easy; slick and relaxed, but the grip on his hand said otherwise.

Fury nodded, but didn’t look like he was about to be distracted by the new direction Tony was attempting to take the conversation. “Have you told her yet?”

Tony nodded, and Steve couldn’t help but glance over at him to see an emotion he couldn’t quite catch skitter over Tony’s face before disappearing behind the mask again. “Yes, I told her. Steve even came over to meet her today. She gave him heaps of advice and all that motherly sort of stuff.”

“What about your father?”

Tony’s hand went limp in his for a fraction of a second, and that was something Steve found far more concerning than the death like grip that had previously been inflicted upon his hand. He wanted to drag Tony out of the room, to see if he was okay, to apologise for whatever was going through his mind, because it was his fault, really. He should have told Tony to stay at home, that he’d be able to do this by himself. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say that. It was a simple truth, but he’d wanted Tony there with him.

Fury shook his head, sighing in what could only be disappointed, taking Tony’s silence as a negative response. “You think you’re grown up enough to have a kid, and yet you can’t even man up enough to admit to it first.”

Tony’s hand jerked away from Steve’s, his whole body tensing as he took a step forward to stand directly opposite Fury at the desk. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I am far more grown up than any of you adults like to give me credit for. I have a plan. A plan that half the adults in this situation wouldn’t have, and it involves doing a lot more than just telling Howard. Besides, he’s not even in the country, and I figured it was far more manly to tell him to his face.”

Fury sat back in his chair, looking, for most part, actually impressed. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what to think, Tony’s words still swimming around in his head. They sounded so certain, so confident, and that panicked, fluttery feeling was building up inside his chest again, and it scared him to even think about what it might mean. Tony was putting on a brave front, he could see that, and he didn’t think he knew enough about Tony’s relationship with his father to really understand why. He’d gained the impression that it wasn’t the best, but then, Tony had even seemed a little distant from Maria.

“You just be sure that you do tell him.” Fury replied, glancing between the three of them with his gaze finally settling on Steve. “Barnes, get lost, will you, I’m sick of your loitering.”

Bucky started to protest, but Fury cut him off quickly. “I’m not going to do anything to Steve, I just want to talk to him, without you two idiots here.”

Bucky huffed in obvious displeasure, pushing himself away from the door and opening it back out into the hall. He paused long enough to clap one hand down on Steve’s shoulder and give him a look that really didn’t need words to go along with it. He could practically feel Bucky’s concern radiating through his hand into his shoulder, and all he could managed as reassurance was a lopsided smile. Bucky watched him carefully for another moment, shooting Fury a final glare before exiting the office.

Tony lingered, still standing between the desk and Steve, eyes flickering between Fury and him so quickly it had to be dizzying. He wanted to reach out for Tony’s hand again, to cling to it and stop him from leaving. It wasn’t that he was scared of facing Fury alone, he just didn’t want to be alone. Or to give Tony time to think about what had been said and decide it was all too difficult. Tony’s gaze finally settled on him, and he found the lopsided smile he’d given Bucky struggling to even form. The dark haired boy shook his head slowly, stepping back towards Steve, only stopping long enough to brush a hint of a kiss to his forehead before he was heading out the door, knowing that he’d been, quite obviously, dismissed.

“Stark?” Fury called out as Tony was in the doorway, waiting until Tony turned back to face him before continuing. “You’re fifty percent responsible for this, you know. However, Steve could end up with one hundred percent of the consequences. You’d better make sure he doesn’t, you hear me? I’ll be keeping an eye one you.”

Tony swallowed, eyes darting to Steve briefly again before settling back on the man behind the desk. He smirked slightly, as though it was all he could manage. “Yeah, well, you’ve only got one, so that should be a piece of cake for you.”

Steve blinked at the door as it closed a little too hard, feeling the silence settle over the room, but Tony’s words still echoed around the room, bouncing off of him in a way that almost physically hurt. He had seen that smirk before, heard that tone of voice, it was defensive and hard and a side of Tony he didn’t like having to see. Fury’s words didn’t help either. It was the painfully honest fact that he’d both dwelled on too late into the night, and tried to ignore completely. The fact that Tony could walk away from him and their baby and there wasn’t a lot he could do to stop that. Fury had said the hard truth, and Tony hadn’t said anything to reassure him that it wouldn’t happen.

He could hear a muffled exchange between Tony and Bucky outside, make out their voices, but not the words they were saying. It didn’t help at all, just made him want even more to be able to follow Tony out that door and away from the scrutinising gaze of Fury. He knew he couldn’t just run away though, he needed to face whatever it was the Fury felt he had to say. Resisting the urge to let his hands curl in front of his stomach, he turned back towards the care worker, meeting his gaze steadily, and starting up a mantra in his head that no matter what was said, he and Tony were keeping the baby.

It didn’t help that even his internal voice faltered over Tony’s name every time.

Fury looked at him, then glanced towards the chair sitting opposite him, just off to the side. “Have a seat Rogers.”

Steve shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back, only to stop them from fidgeting. And to stop them from going to his stomach, even though it was still perfectly flat, they still found their way there whenever he felt nervous, unsure, or particularly judged or threatened by anyone. Not that he thought Fury was a threat. Fury had always looked out for him and Bucky, he didn’t think he’d do anything now without thinking it was in his best interests.

“Suit yourself then. You always were going to be a stubborn one, weren’t you Steve? Barnes might be the loud mouth, but you’re both as stubborn as each other.” Fury shook his head in a fond, but exasperated way. “Not much point with the small talk. And I won’t ask about the morning sickness, Christ knows you’re green every morning when you venture out. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into? A baby is a life time commitment, you know.”

He felt his face heat up, but it wasn’t embarrassment. “I know that. Does any first time parent really know what they’re getting in for?” He was stalling, he knew that, because he couldn’t let the words _‘I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m scared that I’m making a mistake and will be left doing this all on my own.’_ tumble out of his mouth. He couldn’t show the doubt he had that Tony wouldn’t stick around until the end. “Tony has a plan, we’re working on this, being ready, when the time comes. The baby isn’t due until after I’m eighteen, I won’t be here then, so it’s not like you have to worry about that.”

“Tony,” Fury paused for a second, like he was trying to search for the right words. “He might be a nice boy Steve, but you should know that he’s as young and as scared as you, and he can just run away from this if he chooses too. You’re the one stuck in this, not him. And don’t take this the wrong way, but he’s his father’s son, and I’ve known this family since Tony was a kid, they have certain appearances to keep up with. You and a baby don’t really fit in with those appearances.”

Steve bristled, feeling the cold realisation settling in, that Tony might be saying a lot of reassuring things out loud, but it didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t yet told his father, and how everything could change the moment he did that. He couldn’t find words to argue, couldn’t find any certainty to back words up with.

“You won’t be left high and dry, the Starks are too honest for that, and it sounds like you’ve already won over Maria. She’s a good woman, Steve, and I only hope that Tony takes after her, but you still have to be prepared for the chance that you might be left to raise this baby on your own. Are you ready for that? For putting your whole life on hold? You do this on your own, and you won’t be able to go to Art school, you’ll have to put all your dreams on hold until the child is old enough. Especially if there isn’t anyone else to help look after it.” Fury didn’t seem put out with the lack of response he was getting, just kept talking steadily and calmly, not even a hint of malice in his voice.

“Tony wouldn’t...” His voice choked out, the words failing him completely. He wanted to defend Tony, because he was better than that, but the doubt was there, stirring in his chest and trying to tighten around his heart. His stomach gave a dissatisfied lurch, and the last thing he really needed was to throw up in Fury’s fake plants. “He said he had a plan. To get a place together, a home, for us to live in. The three of us.”

“He’d better.” Fury stopped, visibly checking his temperament back into place. “I’m not saying this will happen, Steve, but Tony might promise you the world now, it doesn’t mean that it’s going to come true. He might fall in love with someone else, or fall out of love with you, between now and when the baby is born, and you might still be left raising a child alone. You have to be ready for that.”

Love? It wasn’t about that, not even close. Not really. He liked Tony, a lot, maybe even loved him, but he didn’t fool himself into thinking that Tony was doing this out of love. They were just two dumb kids who were trying to make the most of a mistake they’d made together. “He doesn’t love me now.” He didn’t want it to sound nearly as hopeless as it had.

Fury raised an eyebrow and looked about to protest, so he pushed on, forcing more words, more logic, to the surface.

“Tony’s doing this because it’s the right thing to do, and he’s a good person.” It wasn’t love. Not on Tony’s part, not yet, it was all too soon for that.

Fury nodded once, “I wasn’t saying that he isn’t a good person, Steve, just, be careful, okay? And expect the worse that could happen. If you aren’t prepared for the possibility of raising this child alone, then you really need to think about alternatives.”

He couldn’t help it then, his hands jerked, instinctively wanting to cover his stomach and shield the baby, his fingers laced tightly together was the only thing that stopped him. Taking a deep breath, trying to settle the haphazard beat of his heart, Steve didn’t let his gaze stray from Fury, shoulders tensing. “I made the choice to keep this baby before I even told Tony. I will do this on my own if I have to.” He could, and he would, if it came down to it. He just didn’t want to. Not after the moments with Tony, when he listened to the other boy talk about their baby, and for a little while thought he could believe everything Tony said. That they’d make it work and be a family. But it had been one night at a party that had started it all, not much basis for a happy future together.

“You’d better have a good plan then.” The look on Fury’s face was almost threatening, a poor disguise for the concern still etched around the edges.

“There’s still seven months to go, I’ll have it all worked out before then.” He’d have to start planning, looking for a job, somewhere to live once he turned eighteen, all those things just in case Tony didn’t stick around.

“Good. Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it too, okay? Now get out there before your boyfriend and your best friend start ripping chunks out of each other. I don’t need that mess to clean up.” Fury looked away from him, turning back to his computer in a rather blatant dismissal.

Steve turned away, finally letting his fingers unclench and his hands drop back to his sides. There was nothing else to say, so he opened the door and stepped back out of the office. Bucky and Tony both stood there, leaning not very casually against the wall, eyes glued to the door.

They waited long enough for the door to close behind him before the barrage of questions started.

“Are they going to kick you out?”

“Are you okay?”

“What did he say?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liked, loved, hated, felt indifferent towards, want to marry, want to divorce, want to forcibly remove your kudos, want to drown it in a vat of acid? However you feel, would love to hear it. I'd say I'm a poor writer who is only surviving on comments and kudos and people's good will, but all those that know me will smack me upside the head and tell me to stop lying. But hey, I'll do almost anything to get comments (and yes, [mage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3) I'm one of those people who have the gall to ask for comments. The nerve!) 
> 
> And just when you think the comments sections are getting longer than the actual chapter, I'll say adieu and actually post this. 
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr](http://saralhylor.tumblr.com/) if you feel so inclined.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual thanks to the usual people. [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble) wonderful beta and all round awesome person. [jujitsuelf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf) who is always there to cheerlead and chase away the IWS, and it the person in charge of cracking the whip to keep me writing this story. The number of times I've heard "But first, Candy Hearts" every time I start talking about a new idea. And finally [3White_Mage3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3), because darling, you always write the best comments, and look great in a cheerleaders outfit. Pom poms and all.   
> A shout out to [cornwankies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cornwankies/works) for all her enthusiastic all caps messages/comments about how evil I am for making her enjoy an mpreg story. 
> 
> Thanks to each and every person who is reading this and commenting, I love you all, and appreciate every comment, kudos and bookmark more than you know. I never expected this story to actually be popular, so, you know, it's a nice surprise.

“Are they going to kick you out?” Bucky stepped away from the wall as soon as Steve had stepped out of Fury’s office. His brow creased, eyes dangerously protective.

Steve shook his head slowly, offering Bucky the best attempt at a smile he could muster, trying for care free, but it felt twisted on his face.

“Are you okay?” Tony was hanging back a little bit more, edging towards him slowly like he wasn’t entirely sure whether he should be pushing between Steve and Bucky. His brow was creased eyes flickering from Steve’s face back to the closed office door several times. “What did he say?”

The words still echoed around in his head, Fury’s caution, and he wasn’t sure how to just admit it all. Wasn’t sure if he could look Tony in the eye and put a voice to all his doubts. Instead he pushed a smile onto his face, letting his shoulders rise and fall in a slight shrug. “Just making sure I know what I’m doing.”

Relief flashed across Tony’s face and he pushed forward past Bucky, stepping into Steve’s personal space and only hesitated for a fraction of a second before he looped his arms around Steve’s shoulders.  It would have been too easy to just lean into Tony’s embrace, to give in and trust that everything was going to be alright. But Fury’s words still echoed in his head  _’you still have to be prepared for the chance that you might be left to raise this baby on your own’_  and that panicked, fluttery, warm feeling from earlier curled up in a cold lump in his chest.

Tony’s arms loosened and he stepped back a fraction. His hands came up to cup the back of Steve’s neck, fingers trailing through his hair. “Are you okay?”

The look of concern on Tony’s face was almost too much. It was too genuine, too real, and he could feel the tug, the need to just curl into him and take every little bit of comfort and care that he could. But the words were still there, echoing through his head and warning him to be careful, to expect the worst, to not count on Tony to stick around and he knew, no matter what, he had to make sure he could stand on his own two feet when everything fell apart.

He didn’t let himself lean into Tony’s touch, pushing a ragged smile into his lips, eyes flickering over to catch the frown on Bucky’s face, before back to the concern that had only deepened on Tony’s. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

“That’s happening a lot,” Bucky muttered, eyes not leaving Steve, but the tone of voice he was using seemed more directed at filling Tony in with information he might not have had himself. “Think you should go see the doc again?”

He shook his head, not quite sure what to make of the fact that it didn’t dislodge Tony’s hand from where it was stroking lightly through his hair. “She said it was fairly normal, especially given how bad my morning sickness is. Mrs Stark confirmed that too. Think I might just go have a lie down for a while.”

Tony leant forward again, lips pressing against his forehead in a gesture that was becoming far too common, and Steve found he didn’t mind it as much as he should have, even though it really did highlight how short he was if Tony Stark could quite comfortably kiss his forehead. He caught Bucky pulling a face at him from behind Tony, somewhere between teasing and disgust, and he couldn’t help the way the edges of his smile turned more genuine.

He pulled back from Tony, stifling a yawn, and excusing himself as he took a step towards the corridor that lead down to his room. It shouldn’t have surprised him when Tony started to follow him, Bucky a few steps behind.

“You can’t go up here, Stark. You probably should push off.” Bucky stated, jogging a few steps to catch up, getting level with Steve so he could look mockingly back over his shoulder at Tony.

Tony rolled his eyes, reaching forward to hook his fingers around the hem of Steve’s shirt, not to stop him, but more to make sure he wasn’t going to get left behind. “Bite me, Barnes. If your rules around here are going to stop me from hanging out with my boyfriend and making sure he’s alright, then this place is worse than I thought it was.”

“It’s not that bad. Not all of us can live in mansions.” Steve felt himself bristle defensively. It wasn’t home, not like the little apartment he’d shared with his mum, but it was all he’d known for a few years, and it was all he had. Bucky was his family, and the group home was safe, and he didn’t need Tony Stark judging it, or them, and finding it lacking.

Tony’s fingers tightened around the hem of his shirt, and he could all but feel the tension running through his boyfriend, fully prepared for some kind of rebuttal. Tony took a deep breath, then let it out all in a rush and Steve thought perhaps he should turn around and apologise.

“I can go, if you don’t want me around.” It sounded like he’d tried for casual, but there was something like hurt around the edge of Tony’s words.

It was enough to make Steve shake his head. Fury’s warnings were still there, still tapping against his brain, but despite his better judgement, he didn’t really want Tony to leave. He caught the flash of a smile on Tony’s face, and felt their hands tangle together again.

That’s how he ended up lying on his bed, Tony tucked in behind him, propped up again the wall, one hand slowly stroking through his hair. Bucky sat on his bed on the opposite side of the room, homework spread out but untouched. With his eyes closed, drifting in and out, he could hear them talking, voices quiet, but still bantering with each other like they always seemed to do. It was comfortable, hemmed in by the two people he really cared about, and it was almost enough to squash down all the doubt and dread, and almost enough to drown out Fury’s warnings.

 

///

 

Steve looked out the window of the car as it pulled up into the car park. The scene was familiar, though it wasn’t often that he saw it from inside a car, surrounded by artificial warmth at that time of year. Tony’s hand squeezed his, offering reassurance or asking him not to leave, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He’d told Tony there was one more thing he had to do that day, one more person to tell about their baby, and Tony had insisted that his driver, Happy, drop him off on the way to taking Tony home.

He hadn’t asked if Tony wanted to come with him, and Tony hadn’t offered. It wasn’t like cemeteries were really places people liked to hang out if they didn’t need to.

All the same, Tony seemed a little reluctant to let go of his hand as he opened the car door. He glanced back over his shoulder, the cold outside air already starting to leech the warmth out of the car. His free hand closed around his jacket, tugging it out of the foot well and wishing he could pull it on straight away, but Tony’s grip hadn’t let up on his hand.

Tony’s face twisted, eyes too big, skin too pale, but his eyebrows pulled down and mouth scrunched up like he was considering something particularly unpleasant. At Steve’s raised eyebrow, he finally formed words to follow that expression. “You sure you’re going to be okay out there?”

He could hear the unspoken  _’alone’_  on Tony’s question, but it still wasn’t really an offer for company, so he simply nodded. It wasn’t as though it was the first time he’d gone to the cemetery to visit his mother’s grave. Wasn’t even the first time he’d gone alone.

Tony’s hand loosened around his, fingers finally releasing as he shuffled across the seat to slip out of the car. He struggled into his jacket, trying not to think about how cold his hand felt without Tony’s wrapped around it, and leant briefly back into the car to thank Happy for dropping him off.

Tony smiled at him, arms hugged around himself, hands tucked against his body, as though the door being open was enough to make him cold. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow? You know you can call tonight, if you want to, or message me, and I’ll call, or we can just text, whatever, or you know, we can just wait until tomorrow.” There was a slight pause, not long enough to fill with new words, but enough for Tony to bite his bottom lip somewhat nervously. “Just, you don’t have to, but it’d be nice, let me know when you get home safe, okay?”

The warn fluttery feeling from earlier gave another kick inside his chest, and instinctively he tugged his jacket tighter around him, to keep that feeling safe. He wasn’t sure he could make any promises, he was pretty good at forgetting he even had a mobile phone half the time, but he found himself nodding and returning Tony’s smile anyway. “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

It wasn’t much of a goodbye, but he took a step back and shut the door before Tony started to shiver. The car idled there for another minute, Tony looking at him through the rear window, before the brake lights dimmed and it started the pull out of the car park. Steve let out the breath he was holding in, watching it ghost in the air in front of him. It was probably too cold to even be outside, especially with evening so close, but he knew he had to do this.

Turning away from the car park, he headed in through the pedestrian access gate, just off to the side of the main entrance. He knew the way to his mother’s grave without even having to think about it; it was a path he’d had to walk too often, and every time he couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it was that she’d had to die. It was even worse on this journey, feet kicking loose stones and eyes flitting over the various grave markers and headstones as he passed. It certainly didn’t seem fair that his child would never get to meet his mother. It didn’t seem fair that he was going through this without her support.

He crossed a too familiar section of grass, frost bitten and yellow brown from the weak winter sun, coming to a stop in front of a depressingly plain looking grave. His mother’s name stared back at him, etched in stone, and bracketed on either side by the headstones of his father and his grandfather. They’d used to come here together, when his ma had time off of work, to weed the graves and put fresh flowers down. He didn’t remember either of the men his ma had talked about, even though she told him that he had known both of them, for a few brief years. It had been hard, to see his ma with that underlying sadness she had every time she talked about her husband, he’d always hung back and let her talk when they’d come here. He was alone this time though, no one else to let talk first, nowhere to hang back and try not to think about how lonely the cemetery was in winter time.

“Hi, ma...” His voice sounded so foreign in the relative silence, cutting through the crisp air too loud and too harsh, and he almost expected ghosts to appear simply to tell him to keep it down and let them sleep. There was, of course, no one else around, only cold stone and long shadows cast by the sun that was threatening to dip below the buildings surrounding the cemetery.

Tucking one hand in his jacket pocket, his fingers closed around the print out of the sonogram. His other hand instinctively settled low on his stomach, still feeling the phantom pressure from all the times Tony’s hand had rested there. It seemed that no matter how much he wanted to be strong and prepare himself for the inevitable moment when Tony would leave, his mind kept dragging the other boy to the forefront and making it impossible to think of anything but him. Pushing it all away, he drew in a deep breath and looked back at his mother’s name.

“I was reckless, ma, did something foolish, but I can’t regret it. I just wanted to tell you, about Tony, about our baby.” Steve paused, taking another deep breath and willing his heart to slow down. He let the silence stretch out for a moment, even though there was never going to be a reply. “It’s so tiny, ten weeks, but the lady said, when we had the ultrasound, that it seemed to be the right size and everything. So I guess that’s something.”

He pulled the print out from the pocket, glancing down at the glossy surface of the image, fingers gently tracing the smudged path they’d so often run over before; following the curve of the baby’s crown, trailing around the outline of the image. “I don’t really know what I’m doing ma, I wish you were here, things would be different then. I don’t know if I’m making the right choice or not, but I don’t think I could kill it, not without, not without a good reason. Just wish you were here, because I think you’d take one look at Tony and just be able to tell me if he’s going to stay with me through this or not, you were always good at reading people.

“I think maybe he’s scared, and I don’t think I can blame him. I just don’t think I know him well enough to know for sure how this will go.” Steve huffed out a breath, caught somewhere between a nervous laugh and something that sounded a little too much like defeat for his liking. The cold was starting to bite at his fingers, so he tucked his hands, sonogram and all, back into his pockets. “I was supposed to be talking about the baby, but somehow it always comes back to Tony. Sometimes I think maybe I love him, but I don’t think I’m even supposed to know what that is yet, am I? It’s what adults usually say, though I think you would have had something else to say, something more hopeful. I just want this to work out, I want to believe what he’s saying, about staying around, about being a family, but there are still seven months for him to change his mind. A lot can happen in that time.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say after that, the words clogging up in his throat and jumbling in his mind. It didn’t feel like there was anything left to say anyway, it wasn’t as though his mother would hear him anymore if he said the words out loud, rather than keeping them in his head like he usually did.

For a long time he just stood there, blinking at his mother’s headstone, watching the shadows stretch further, slowly settling over the cemetery, the glow of the nearby street lights and the last edges of sunset all that were keeping full darkness away. Too many emotions, too many thoughts kept tumbling through his mind and the only one that stayed still enough to focus on spilled out of his mouth, despite his resolve not to say anything more. “I wanted to make you proud, ma, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it Rogers.”

Steve didn’t jump, though it was a close thing, his heart lurching in his chest at the familiar voice. He didn’t respond, because he knew arguing wouldn’t make a difference, so he simply squared his shoulders and waited, listening to the footsteps that got closer.

Bucky stopped at his side, eyes trained on the grave he was nearly as familiar with as his own family’s. “I might not have known your ma, but I know what you said is bullshit. She loved you, Stevie Wonder, I know that just from how you talk, and I bet you anything that if she were here she’d clip you under the ear for ever thinking you’re a disappointment. Not sure Stark would get off so lightly, she’d probably have his guts for garters, but you? She’d do nothing but support you.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that twitched his lips as Bucky jostled their shoulders together, feeling the familiar warmth thoughts of his ma usually brought him fill his chest. “She’d probably threaten to castrate him.”

Bucky grinned, all teeth and crinkles around his eyes, and he found his own smile stretching in return. “Well, I’m sure Fury’d be up for castrating Stark too, or Pegs, when you tell her. She’s gonna go mamma bear over you big time, you know that don’t you? Girl’s had a soft spot for you forever, if you hadn’t been mooning over the boy genius you mighta had a shot with her.”

The laugh of disbelief leapt out his mouth before he could stop it. It was hard enough to think that Tony liked him, the thought of Peggy liking him was near impossible. “No way, pretty sure she likes you, Bucky. Why else would she have punched you all those times?”

“Women, never understood them, guess I can almost see why you’re gay.” Bucky’s expression flattened out the minute the words left his mouth, eyes suddenly serious and a little worried; they’d never actually talked about it before, never used that word, never labelled.

He shrugged, giving his best friend what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t know if I am. It’s not like I like all guys. Just Tony. It’s just Tony.”

Bucky swallowed, looking away briefly. When he turned back all apprehension from before was gone, and he slung an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Anyway, Stevie Wonder, we should head home. You stay out here any longer and I think you’ll end up giving birth to an ice cube.”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Steve took one final look at his mother’s grave, whispering a goodbye before he let Bucky turn them around and start steering him towards the gate.

“Thanks.” The word slipped out when they hit the street. It was all he could think to say, to acknowledge the fact that Bucky had helped before, made him feel better, and for a moment, like everything would be alright regardless of what happened.

His friend nodded, not looking at him and not even asking what he was thanking him for, just squeezing him a little tighter, tucking their bodies a little closer and picking up the pace a bit. “Any time, Stevie, any time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The same as usual. I'd love to hear what you think, be it good, bad, indifferent, incited homicidal rage etc etc. 
> 
> [Stalk me on Tumblr if you so wish](http://saralhylor.tumblr.com/). I'll try to be more interesting than I have been lately.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble) for the beta work, she's being incredible as always and putting up with me changing me mind about things and writing some complete duds over the chapters. 
> 
> Thanks to the cheer squad/support team/awesome people who are [3White_Mage3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3), [jujitsuelf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf), [cornwankies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cornwankies/works) and [Jeniouis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeniouis). You are all great and I will love you forever to putting up with me and this story.

Tony shut the front door behind him, letting his backpack drop to the tiled floor before shrugging his jacket off, and making a poor attempt to hang it up in the usually impeccable, and discreet, coat room. Jarvis would no doubt roll his eyes at it later, but even that wasn't enough to make him pick his jacket up from where it fell.

It was approaching the seventy two hour mark since he'd last slept, at least four hours since his last coffee, and he was pretty sure he'd slipped into zombie mode somewhere during his last lesson of the day, Advanced Physics. It was a good thing that he was already ahead in that class.

There'd just been too much going on lately. The past five days of school had been weird, to say the least, between Barnes getting increasingly snarky and Steve getting more and more vague and distant, occasionally seesawing back to normal, he wasn't really sure what was going on. Lunch, the day before, for instance, Steve had looked exceptionally tired and queasy, so they'd sat outside in the fresh air and for the first time all week Steve had just let him hold him, but he hadn't talked at all. It was like he was too tired to do anything and just let Tony do whatever he wanted. Which had been to ramble about all the designs he'd been staying awake all night to create, the stock pile of things he was developing so that he'd have stuff to fall back on later, when everything became too hectic. It had only lasted one lunch time before Steve was back to being Steve, thin shoulders squared and looking like he was trying to support the whole world. Or getting ready to fight it.

It was moments like that when he was sure that Steve wasn't even with him, but somewhere else entirely. And it scared him. He didn't know how to fix that, or make it better. Didn't know how to ask Steve what was wrong. Didn't want to. He wasn't sure he wanted an answer to that question, because he was half sure – no, three quarters sure – that Steve was having second thoughts. That Steve was changing his mind about him, or about the baby, or about them both, and he didn't know what to do about that. Didn't know how to bring it up in conversation, because it had been less than two weeks since Steve had told him he was pregnant and even in that short time he'd never actually wished Steve to change his mind about keeping the baby. He was pretty sure he didn't want Steve to change his mind.

About 97.85% sure. Give or take a few decimal points.

But if Steve did...

"Master Tony?"

Jarvis' voice interrupted his thoughts and Tony jerked around violently, feeling far guiltier than being caught not hanging up his jacket should warrant. The butler gave him an amused look, before his eyes drifted to the crumpled jacket on the floor and, as anticipated, rolled his eyes in a way that seemed far more fond than exasperated.

"Jarvis, hey, snuck up on me there." Tony heard the nervous laugh rattle his words and deliberately swallowed to try and settle it all back down again. As he watched Jarvis cross the foyer to pick up his school bag, hooking the straps over one arm, before stooping again to pick up his jacket and hang it correctly, Tony's mind had finally settled to two concrete thoughts. The first being that he needed to go to sleep before he fell over, and the second was the speculation over how Jarvis would react if he suddenly demanded a hug like he'd used to as a small child.

Jarvis closed the coat room door, pausing to look at Tony for a moment, picking a bit lint off of Tony's shoulder, giving a tight smile. "Your father arrived home earlier today, he's in his study."

Tony tensed, suddenly not feeling tired at all. Howard wasn't supposed to be home until the following day, that's what Obie had said. He didn't think he was ready to face Howard yet, hadn't gotten all his plans together, hadn't gotten a job, hadn't finished enough designs. He didn't know how to tell him about what was happening, about Steve, about the baby, about how he didn't know what to do.

Jarvis' hand settled on his shoulder, the expression on his face one of concern, eyes far too understanding and Tony knew all it would take was one plea for help and Jarvis would do anything for him. But he was a Stark. Stark men were made of iron and they didn't plead for help, not to anyone. He swallowed down the fear and nervousness that had risen up and was trying to strangle him, plastering on a smile and hoping the butler wouldn't see through it.

"Think I'm going to need a coffee before I get summoned, please tell me you've got one brewing already." Tony stepped back, running one hand through his hair and hoping that the smile didn't falter. He wanted to duck back out the front door while he still had the chance, wanted to call Obie, or his mamma and ask for some back up, wanted to call Steve ad tell him that no matter what happened, he'd never regret that night.

Jarvis adjusted Tony's backpack where it hung off his arm and nodded towards the kitchen. "There is coffee in there, Master Tony, and something to eat as well. Don't keep your father waiting too long when he calls on you."

Tony nodded, flashing Jarvis a grin before making a beeline towards the kitchen. The scent of coffee filled the room, and he almost groaned in relief. Sculling coffee, even freshly brewed coffee, didn't drown out that desperate need he'd felt before, and Tony wanted to kick himself for not having the courage to ask for the hug that he'd wanted.

He was part way through his third cup of coffee, each disappearing quicker than the first, when the inevitable happened. Jarvis appeared in the kitchen doorway, informing Tony that his father was summoning him.

Howard's study door was open, the lights on and curtains closed, as though Howard hadn't finished setting up in the space before he'd been distracted by something work related. The man himself stood behind his desk, laptop open but the screen black, angled away from him and a mass of unfolded paper and neatly opened envelopes taking up most of the space in front of him. He didn't look at when Tony stopped in the doorway, wishing he had brought his coffee with him just so he had something to occupy his hands with, even though his stomach felt like a jumble of nerves and too much coffee.

"Hey dad," The title tasted foreign on Tony's tongue, seldom spoken and even rarer in thought, but he didn't want to be putting his father off side straight away. "How was the trip?"

Howard didn't glance up at him shuffling through some papers for a while before reaching for the glass sitting beside the laptop. Whiskey in hand, he finally looked up, eyes seeming to slide dismissively over his son in lieu of acknowledgement. "Tony, I take it you have behaved yourself in my absence."

It wasn't a question; it was an expectation _,_  a challenge to disappoint him. Tony didn't know what to say, he hadn't technically misbehaved during the three weeks Howard had been away; arguably, he'd  _misbehaved_  a couple months ago. The damage had been done long before Howard's latest absence. He felt sick, almost instantly, for thinking of Steve and the baby in the context of damage.

His father didn't seem to be expecting a reply, after another dismissive flicker in his gaze and a measured sip of whiskey, he kept talking. "Obadiah tells me that you've been falling behind in your work. You haven't handed in any of the new designs you promised him, that you've been too distracted by school related things that have nothing to do with the curriculum."

Tony felt a stab of betrayal; Obie had promised he wouldn't tell, but he could almost imagine Howard grilling Obie about everything that had happened while he was away, and Obie obviously hadn't told everything, otherwise they'd be having a very different conversation at that point.

"I allowed you to go to that school only because the Rhodes boy and Virgil's daughter were also going there. I thought they'd be a good influence on you, children who know discipline, structure, because of their parents' professions, and Maria always coddled you far too much. If it wasn't for your mother, I would have sent you off to the same boarding school I went to." Howard's sigh was tinged with disappointment and disapproval. "I regret that decision now that I hear you're wasting your time away with some institutionalised brat. You're as bad as Maria with all her charity cases. People like us, do not associate with people like that. They only ever want one thing."

Tony blinked, feeling himself recoil against his will, body instinctively trying to retreat away from the venom in Howard's voice. It took a moment to even figure out that he was talking about Steve, then a hot mixture of fear and hate settled in his stomach, licking up his spine and wanting to push words out his mouth, anything to defend Steve. "He's not institutionalised."

It hurt that his brain failed him so badly that was all he could come up with, voice sounding too weak to actually pose much of an argument. He felt off kilter, too tired to react quick enough to anything Howard said; feeling slow and stupid in only a way that his father could make him feel, despite knowing that wasn't really true.

"He is an orphan living in a home that is heavily funded by your mother's foundation." Howard paused, taking another sip of his whiskey before setting it down, returning to shuffle through the papers on his desk. "If you do not count that as an institution, then I do not know what you do."

He hunted for words, tried to drag something together, some form of rebuttal, but he felt like he was drowning and too exhausted to even attempt to save himself. It wasn't just himself that he had to try and save, floundering wasn't going to do Steve any favours either, and he was a genius for Christ's sake. He was Tony fucking Stark, and Stark men were made of iron. If he wasn't strong enough to look after Steve and the baby then there wasn't exactly much point to the last few months.

"Oh, yes, and that was exactly the life he chose for himself, Howard." The snide remark slipped out, slick and silver and it was satisfying to see the way that the lines of Howard's shoulders tensed, like he hadn't been expecting any form of response. "I have those plans that I promised Obie too, more than my usual quota, and I would have given them to him if he wasn't so busy running  _your_  company."

The papers stopped shuffling and Tony knew he'd pushed it too far when Howard's knuckles went white around a particular sheet, gaze lifting finally to meet his, not dismissive anymore but challenging. He took a quick breath, drawing his shoulders back and wondering exactly what to expect next. But he was a Stark and Starks were made of iron, he could handle anything; the irony of it didn't escape him that he mantra he was repeating was one he'd learnt from the same man he was facing down across the desk.

Howard lifted the particular piece of paper he was holding and even without seeing the front of it Tony knew what it was. Edges worn from being handled too often, about the size of a standard photograph and when he blinked he could still see the image it help captured inside his eyelids. His thoughts skidded to a halt, breath feeling like lead in his lungs, and his sleep deprived mind searched frantically for the answer to the question that he had to bite back from actually asking. How had the sonogram ended up in Howard's hands? It had been in his room, he was sure of it, tucked behind the back of his desk draw, in an envelope that was taped there to keep the handful of designs he'd drawn entirely by hand. The designs he didn't want to show Howard or Obie just yet, if ever. It should have been safe, and even if it wasn't the best hiding spot, Jarvis and the cleaning staff were the only ones who ever went into his room, and they knew not to snoop. Jarvis didn't let them.

"I was going to let you explain this, but I think I know my own son well enough to know that you wouldn't without some prompting, you've always been a coward like that." Howard tossed the image down onto the desk, so overtly careless that Tony felt an animalistic growl trying to force its way up his throat and he wanted to reach over and snatch up the picture and protect it as though it was as precious as the baby itself.

He swallowed down the sound, a shaky breath being all that ended up coming out of his mouth, and forced his hands to stay by his side. He couldn't form words, couldn't think of anything to say; all he wanted to do was snatch and the picture and make a run for it.

"Whose is it?"

That question had been inevitable, Tony knew that, and he forced himself to look away from the sonogram and pack up at Howard. There was something in his father's eyes, the set of his mouth, the disappointed frown lines of his brow that were boarder-line vicious that told him he didn't really need to answer because some how Howard knew already. But that was impossible. Howard couldn't possibly know that it was Steve's, that it was his, but that expression - it was enough to melt iron. He couldn't think straight, couldn't get the words to settle inside his mind long enough to really think. Some one had told his father, that was what the look on Howard's face was telling him, but he'd only told two people, his mamma and Obie, and neither of them would have betrayed him, not when they knew he was going to tell Howard himself. It wasn't like he'd been going to keep it a secret.

It could have been Fury. He shouldn't have stormed out of his office the way he had that day, shouldn't have acted like that. Other than Fury, his mamma and Obie, the only other people who knew were Bucky and Steve. Steve. He'd been so quiet and distant of late, maybe he'd said something to Howard. He wouldn't have, would he?

But Howard had found out somehow. Someone had told him.   
   
"Answer me, boy."

Tony flinched in spite of himself, anticipating a physical blow that he doubted would ever come. He glanced back down at the sonogram briefly before looking back up at Howard again. He could feel the words lodged in his throat like a physical thing, each on of them tasting like a betrayal, like he was putting his baby and Steve in danger as they passed over his tongue. "It's mine and Steve's. He only found out a couple weeks ago and I was going to tell you if you'd given me half the chance. We're keeping it, before you ask, that's why I've been working flat out on designs, so I have a back log. I asked Obie for a job, a proper one, because I'm going to need a regular wage to support Steve and the baby, and get a place for us to live. I haven't figured out what I'm going to do about college yet, but I thought maybe putting it on hold for a couple of years, until everything settles down and the baby is a little old–"

Howard slammed his fist down on the table, stopping the flow of words abruptly. Feeling like jagged pieces of glass in his throat. Tony swallowed carefully, breathing hard and staring unblinkingly at his father, waiting in that moment, like the eye of a storm, knowing it was only going to get worse. 

"You'll do no such thing." Howard started, voice a shade of calm that didn't match his expression, the clenching of his jaw and the visible pulse throbbing in his temples. "I don't care what that little genetic defect said, that baby is not a Stark. He has you fooled boy, it isn't yours. He is just trying to con you, lying to get what he wants. They will do that, Tony, they will trick you out of what is rightfully yours and take it as though they are entitled to, rather than work like honest people to make their own way in life."

He felt cold, lungs too tight and his stomach rolling like he was going to be sick. Steve wouldn't do that, he wasn't like that. Hell, he'd been the one to instigate it at Rhodey's. "It is mine, Steve isn't like that. I know it's mi–" 

"This isn't open for discussion, I will not have a faggot as a son! No Stark has ever been, or will ever be so perverted!" 

The rapid change in tone and volume was more of a surprise than the crystal whiskey tumbler that was suddenly hurled in his direction. Tony ducked at the last second, feeling the tumbler glance off his head, just above the hairline, pain blossoming instantly, the sting of alcohol in an open wound as whiskey soaked his hair. The offending object dropped to the ground behind him, momentum lost, thudding against the thick carpet, bouncing once, and coming out of the whole ordeal unscathed. 

Tony lifted a hand to his head, gingerly touching his scalp as he stood up straight again. His brain felt like it had been rattled inside his skull and he wasn't surprised when his palm came away red. He could feel liquid running down his temple, pooling in his ear before trickling down his neck, but what was alcohol and what was blood he wasn't sure. The anger had dissipated from Howard's gaze, but he didn't look apologetic, just scornful and dismissive. 

"This pregnancy will be terminated, Tony, you'd better make sure it is. Someone has to do damage control, and if you're insisting that you are responsible for this, then it is on you to  _clean this up!"_

The words hurt more than the blow to the head. Terminate. Clean up. Abort. Kill. He couldn't do that. It didn't matter that logic and law and science dictated that it wasn't a baby yet, that it was still a foetus. It didn't matter because it was  _his_  baby, his and Steve's, and how could he even contemplate that? Something - blood or whiskey, he wasn't sure - had trickled down his forehead and was making its way along his eyebrow and he knew that it'd end up in his eye but he made no movement to wipe it away. He wasn't even sure he could move. 

"No." 

It wasn't until Howard's furious gaze settled on him that Tony even realised that he'd said anything. His father glared at him before shaking his head in a well worn expression of disappointment. "This isn't open for discussion, Tony." 

That was it. End of discussion. Tony knew he'd been dismissed, knew there was no point in trying to protest. It wouldn't be heard anyway. His eyes were stinging, head throbbing and he could feel his shirt collar growing damp. "No, it isn't. I'm not a murderer like you." 

He turned before there was a chance for Howard's rebuttal, kicking the crystal tumbler across the ground with enough force that it bounced off of the skirting board, putting a dent in the wood rather than damaging the glass. It only pissed him off more. Storming out of Howard's study he slammed the door behind him, taking small satisfaction in the fact that was one of those things that Howard hated. If he'd had the energy he would have slammed it another ten times just to fuck with the bastard. But his head hurt too much, and he was starting to suspect that it wasn't just blood and alcohol that was running down his face anymore. He tried to remember everything he knew about head wounds, which wasn't a whole lot, it wasn't like bleeding from his scalp was a regular occurrence, but trying to drag up first aid information from the depths of his memory was better than thinking about what Howard had said. 

"Master Tony?" 

Tony turned at the sound of Jarvis' voice, not even bothering to try and hide his appearance for everything that it was. There was a note of concern in the butler's voice, and the way his jaw tightened would have been a shout of disapproval from anyone else, and it all had Tony just wanting to reach out, to grab hold of and cling to the man and just give up the pretence of being strong enough to deal with it all. He couldn't move though, his back hurt from how straight he was standing, lungs wanting desperately to close tight around his breathing, throat clicking every time he swallowed and he knew if he relaxed even a fraction he would be crying. 

But Stark men didn't cry. Stark men were made of iron, and tears would only make them rust. 

Jarvis was by his side in the time it took him to finally blink, long fingers closing around Tony's chin and tilting his head this way and that, sighing and shaking his head in disappointment. There was a moment when Tony was about to relax into the touch, just let himself fall forward, because he knew that Jarvis would catch him and maybe he could play it off as blood loss and not some desperate need for affection, but before that thought had settled into his mind, Jarvis' hands had moved to his shoulders and he was being lead down the hallway back towards the kitchen. He let himself be manhandled, not even sure how to care enough to protest. 

He felt like a puppet as he was deposited on a stool at the kitchen bench, a damp cloth placed in his hand and directed to hold it against the gash on his scalp. Jarvis was standing before him, not talking, jaw clenched so tight Tony wouldn't have been surprised if he busted every one of his teeth; something caught between a sob and a giggle escaped his lips at the thought of impeccable and perfect Jarvis with false teeth. He clamped his own mouth shut again, trying to focus on the taste of whiskey and blood on his tongue from when he'd licked his lips rather than what were undoubtedly tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. 

He couldn't focus on the tears though, or the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, or even the gentle touch of Jarvis' hands as he cleaned up his face and fussed over the cut in his scalp, rattling through the first aid kit and applying various ointments to the wound, to stop bleeding, to stop infection, all without ever muttering a word. Part of him wished that Jarvis would say something, anything, even if it was scolding him and telling him off for bleeding all over his clothes. Something, anything to drown out the echo of Howard's words rattling around in his head. 

It was going to be unavoidable, he knew that; he'd have to talk to Steve, tell him what happened, tell him that Howard wanted them to terminate the pregnancy. His stomach dropped at the very thought, not sure what was worse, the thought of Steve hating him for it, or the thought of Steve agreeing with the decision. 

There was no point telling Obie or his mamma, because Stark men didn't run to their mammas. There was no point in trying to argue with Howard, or even wait a while and try to talk it through like a civil person. 

Because, when all was said and done, no one said no to Howard fucking Stark. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me. 
> 
> [Stalk me on Tumblr if you so wish](http://saralhylor.tumblr.com/) but I totally understand if you don't want to after this chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone about the wait. I had really hoped I wouldn't leave long gaps in posting chapters when I started to upload this, but it happened anyway. 
> 
> Big thanks to the ever patient quandong_crumble who has beta'd this for me the whole way through, and put up with me whinging about how this has been unfolding and come of the reactions I'm getting. 
> 
> Shout out too, to everyone who has commented and read and left kudos and bookmarked and subscribed and especailly to those people who haven't lost faith in me or in this story. I recognise that it has been a hard slog, that it is fairly heavy on the angst side. But it will get better. That's all I can say. This is a Steve/Tony story. And not just because of the content of the first chapter.

Bucky stood in the toilet doorway, propping the door open with his shoulder and hip, rubbing at his sleep blurred eyes with one hand while holding a plastic cup of water with his other hand. His eyes watered from attempting to wake up, and he blinked past the tears to squint at the tight lines of Steve’s spine and shoulders as his thin body rocked forward again. He watched as Steve shuddered through the too familiar sound of him dry heaving, body trying to throw up long after there was nothing left to get rid of.

He didn’t step back as Steve shifted backwards, slumping against his legs, head turned so his cheek was mashed against one kneecap. Bucky waggled the cup in front of his face until Steve took it, automatically shifting his hand to push sweat damp hair away from Steve’s forehead as soon as the cup was taken.

Steve shifted slightly, head tipping away from Bucky’s leg, shoulder digging half painfully against his friend’s shin instead. One hand still curled over the edge of the toilet in case he had to drag himself forward again, Steve sipped carefully at the water trying to wash the taste of bile off his tongue. Bucky shifted, adjusting his stance to support his weight, but the hand in his hair didn’t stop stroking and tugging at strands that had matted together in his sleep; an action that was comforting for all its borderline discomfort.

He took another sip, trying to ignore the way his hand trembled slightly and the hunger pains that gnawed at his stomach beneath the twisting and churning of morning sickness. Wetting his tongue he licked his lips tentatively, feeling the way they were starting to crack and sting despite the frequent application of the lip balm that Peggy had forced upon him the first day she noticed the skin was starting to split and peel. The thought of Peggy and the way she was starting to worry about him brought on a pang of guilt; he knew he’d have to tell her eventually, and that it’d be better to tell her before it became obvious.

The next wave of sickness pushed the thoughts of Peggy out of his mind as he scrambled to drag himself back to the toilet in time to heave orange brown bile into the porcelain bowl. Bucky’s hand shifted from his hair to the back of his neck to help push him forward, accompanied by a knee between his shoulder blades, a little rougher than usual. Trying not to wince, Steve let the motion roll through him to join the convulsion brought on by the attempt to throw up.

Bucky patted his back a little roughly, blaming being half asleep for his coordination being a little off. Steve, morning sickness seemingly in another lull, slumped back against his friend’s legs, picking up the cup he didn’t even remember putting down and taking another sip. His head tipped back, bloodshot eyes blinking up at Bucky who offered him a smile somewhere between sympathetic and amused.

“How you doing there, Sir Puke-a-lot?” Bucky mumbled, jaw slack and tongue still thick from sleep, both his hands going to push hair back out of Steve’s eyes, wiping sweat off his forehead with the palm of one hand.

Steve groaned, eyes rolling even though they were closed, and swatted at Bucky’s bare foot. “Not funny,” he grumbled even though the corners of his lips dragged up into a lethargic smile at the name, “I was hoping I’d be past all this now.”

Bucky toed Steve’s hip in retaliation, dragging his fingers through messy blond hair again, doing nothing at all to make it any neater. “Should have thought about that before you did the nasty with Stark. Or, you know, when you decided to keep the baby.”

Steve tensed up as soon as the words slipped out of Bucky’s mouth. Setting the cup aside, he dragged himself back onto his knees, forcing himself to ignore the vicious roll his stomach gave, before setting both hands on the edge of the toilet and pushing himself up to his feet. He staggered a bit, legs tingling and numb from kneeling on the floor for too long; before he could get his balance, Bucky’s hands caught his shoulders, fingers digging in and holding him up. Trying to jerk away from the touch, Steve glared at his friend over his shoulder, but Bucky merely shook his head, tired expression just daring him to start a fight over it.

“I don’t know about you, but hanging out in the bathroom at five in the morning is hardly my idea of a good time.” Bucky’s lips curled up at one side in an attempt at a good natured smirk, hands rubbing over Steve’s bony shoulders once more before dropping away. “It’s Saturday. I’m going back to bed. Don’t make too much noise when you come in.”

Steve watched as his best friend shuffled back out of the bathroom, his footsteps retreating down the hall in the direction of their shared room. Bucky’s words echoed in his head, and he knew, despite how they sounded, that Bucky hadn’t really been telling him he’d made a mistake by deciding to keep the baby, Bucky was just tired. It wasn’t like he asked him to be there every morning, he was perfectly capable of throwing up all by himself, didn’t actually need Bucky there to look after him. Not that it wasn’t nice. He wasn’t about to be so stubborn that he wouldn’t even admit, in his head, that it was a small relief every time he felt Bucky’s hand on his shoulder, or pushing his hair out of his face, the tired smiles and blurry eyes and half asleep sass. It was a reminder that no matter what happened, Bucky was there for him, even if everyone else abandoned him.

Not that there were many people in a position to leave him. If he’d bothered to write down the list of people who might possibly abandon him, there’d only be Tony’s name on the list.

It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that he would be able to do everything on his own, have the baby, raise a child, or how many times he looked at all the temporary housing application forms, the emergency support applications that Fury had handed him, he still couldn’t pretend that he wanted it to be like that. The stack of papers Fury had handed him all had a familiar name in the logo, and it was probably Maria Stark’s name on the pages that had stopped him from filling them out yet.

The bathroom wasn’t exactly warm, the shiver that rolled through him shuddering him out of his thoughts. The churning in his stomach was still there, but the immediate need to vomit appeared to have passed. Flushing the toilet, Steve collected the cup from where he’d left it on the ground and made quick work of washing his face and brushing his teeth, feeling the shivers starting to grow more violent. Bucky was right, the bathroom wasn’t the best place to hang out before dawn.

Even with that thought in mind, he didn’t move away from where he stood. His stomach was churning again, but he thought that it was less from morning sickness and more from nerves as he studied himself in the mirror; the bags under his eyes were smudged darker than they had been a few days go. He licked his bottom lip, feeling the ragged skin with his tongue and tasting the artificial strawberry of Peggy’s lip balm. He stood a moment longer, then, taking a deep breath and letting it out again all in a rush, Steve turned side on to the mirror and winding fingers around the hem of his shirt, lifted it up to his chest. His eyes traced over the lines of his body, the shadows of his ribs, the jut of hip bones and the soft expanse of his flat stomach. He traced that line again, but it didn’t change the fact that his stomach still looked entirely flat.

A confusing feeling fluttered in his chest, something that was either relief or disappointment, he just couldn’t figure out which it was. Shaking his head at his reflection, Steve pushed his shirt back down and headed towards the door, flicking the lights off as he went.

The hallway was dark expect for the exit sign over the end door giving off an eerie green glow, which was enough for him to find his way back to the room he shared with Bucky. The door had been left half open, enough of a gap for him to slip through and close it behind him. Working off memory rather than giving his eyes time to adjust, Steve edged towards his bed, climbing back into it and pulling the covers up to his chin. The sheets had cooled rapidly in his absence only making him shiver harder.

There was a rustle of fabric from the other side of the room, the creak of Bucky’s mattress, and a few shuffled footsteps later a hand was tugging at the side of his quilt. Steve grumbled a protest at the cold air that slipped beneath the covers, but the hand just shifted to his shoulder, pushing him towards the other side of the bed.

“Budge over punk, I can hear your bones rattling from the other side of the room.” Bucky huffed, still sounding half asleep, not even waiting for Steve to shift over entirely before dropping onto the bed and wriggling under the covers.

Steve rolled over the face the wall, feeling Bucky shift behind him so they were back to back. Warmth radiated off of his friend, and he was too cold to have reservations about pushing back into it. Bucky murmured something under his breath, but didn’t protest otherwise.

Quiet settled back over the room, the warmth and the even, steady sound of Bucky’s breathing had Steve drifting at the edge of sleep when he felt his friend move again. Bucky didn’t roll over, but his shoulders shifted, torso twisting in an attempt to half turn towards Steve.

There was silence for another moment before Bucky sighed. “What I said before, I didn’t, ya know, mean that I think you should have gotten rid of it. That’s not what I was tryin’ to say.”

He let the words settle over him for a few seconds, remembering the flash of defensiveness he’d felt when Bucky had spoken back in the bathroom, the way he’d been prepared for a fight, looking for one, until one look from Bucky had defused the situation. “I know.”

The bed shifted again as Bucky rolled back away from him, settling so their shoulder blades pressed together through their shirts. “I guess it’s kinda cool actually. The whole baby thing. You know, other than all the puking and the fact that you look kinda like shit these days. And the whole fact that you and Stark, yeah, seriously, of all people you could have fu- Hey!” Bucky jerked away slightly from the elbow that was dug into his side. “Okay, okay, no dissing the BF. Despite all that, it’s kinda cool. Do I get to be like an uncle? ‘Cause that’d be pretty cool.”

Steve rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the way his heart was kicking a little too hard in his chest, the acceptance and teasing from Bucky almost too much to deal with so early in the morning. “Just remember you said that when I start forcing you into babysitting and nappy changing.”

Bucky groaned over dramatically, a forced shudder rolling down his spine. “Oh hell no. I’m gonna be the kind of uncle who rocks up, spoils the kid rotten, hypes it up on sugar and teach it all the bad habits then bail and leave you to deal with the aftermath.”

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Steve wriggled a little further into the bed, settling into the mattress with every intention of getting more sleep. “Go to sleep Bucky, you were complaining about being tired before.”

His friend didn’t respond verbally, just shifted on the bed until their backs were pushed together again, breathing slowly evening out and the echo of a heartbeat bouncing off of Steve’s spine, the warmth and comfort letting him slip back to sleep.

///

It felt like only seconds later that the warmth was being pulled away from him, cold assaulting his back and forcing an instant stiffness into his shoulders. Steve whined, scrunching his eyes up and searching blindly around for his bed covers again, hand finding nothing but the bare mattress either side of him.

“C’mon punk, time to get up, Nick wants me to take you to the doctor. He’s made you an appointment for midday.” Bucky’s voice sounded a little hazy, far away.

Blinking his eyes open, Steve lifted his head to look around the room. Bucky stood at the end of his bed, the bed covers all lumped into a pile right in front of him. Taking stock of himself, he was relieved to notice that the sick feeling from earlier had finally settled down. Lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, Steve glanced over at the clock.

“Did I really sleep that long?” The face of the clock was showing ten o’clock, another five hours after they’d gone back to bed. It certainly didn’t feel like he’d had that much sleep.

Bucky grinned, “Yep, now c’mon sleeping beauty, gotta get dressed and fed, Nick saved breakfast for you, and then we’re going for a walk. Now mush mush, I’ll see you down in the kitchen. Take too long and your tea will be cold. Doubt that fancy shit Mrs Stark gave you will taste any good when it’s cold.”

 

A little over an hour later Steve closed the front door of the group home behind him, the temptation to duck back inside the warm building almost too much to resist, but he glanced at Bucky, cheeks and nose already flushed from the cold and squared his shoulders inside the thick jacket he wore, starting towards the foot path. Bucky fell into step beside him, close enough their arms bumped together in a noisy rustle of fabric.

“Thought we’d could get hot chocolate or something on the way home, ya know, make sure you don’t snap freeze and all that.” Bucky grinned at what looked like the beginning of a protest, jostling Steve with his elbow. “My shout, so no arguing, or I’ll buy two and drink ‘em both in front of you.”

They turned right at the footpath, in the direction of the community clinic several blocks over. Hands tucked deep in his pockets, chin nestled down into the scarf he’d wrapped several times around his neck, Steve didn’t really pay any mind to the car that drove down the street past them until it stopped and slowly started to back up to draw level to them. Bucky tensed beside him, rather obviously putting himself between the car and Steve, and Steve’s heart lurched inside his chest when he took in the sleek black lines of the car that instantly made him think of Tony and of Happy Hogan. The face of the man in the driver’s seat wasn’t the stoic but friendly face of Tony’s driver though, and it certainly wasn’t Tony’s face that was revealed when the back window wound down.

“Hi there,” the bald man who leant across from the other side of the car to look at them out the window sounded friendly enough, blue eyes crinkling at the corners and a smile spreading across his lips. “I’m here to see Steven Rogers, don’t suppose either of you two boys would happen to know him?”

Bucky tensed further, glancing over his shoulder at Steve who felt ice slide down his spine, back locking straight and the air instantly being squeezed out of his lungs. Nothing good had ever come from unknown adults coming to talk to him before. He still remembered the sombre face of the doctor who’d come to the apartment where he and his ma had lived, telling him that he’d better come to the hospital, that his ma had collapsed during her shift and had been asking for him.

He swallowed, throat clicking as he felt himself nodding, body acting on auto pilot. The overly friendly smile didn’t ease any of the fear that was coiling tight in his stomach, the casual tone of the man’s voice still sounded like the forbearer of bad news, because the car, with its sleek black lines and fancy leather seats only made him think of Tony, and the only concrete thought in his head was that something bad had happened to Tony.

“You do know him?” The man’s smile didn’t falter but his eyes became more focused, narrowing in on Steve.

“I am him.” The words tasted stale on his tongue, too thick and awkward, falling flat out of his mouth and doing nothing to stop the way his heartbeat echoed inside his ears. He waited; waited for the bad news to come, for the man to stop smiling and tell him something had happened to Tony. His stomach coiled tighter and he felt the sudden urge to throw up again, but it had very little to do with hormonal imbalance and everything to do with the sudden stabbing fear that something had happened, that Tony had been snatched away from him before they even had a real chance to be anything.

“I’m Obadiah Stane, Tony’s uncle, if you will. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment, in private?” The man – Stane; the name sounded vaguely familiar – leant over further and opened the door from the inside, pushing it open with a puff of warm air, wrapping around them briefly before dispersing.

“No way,” Bucky’s voice cut through the air harshly, dragging Stane’s attention back to him. Fists bunched at his sides, Bucky glared at the car and the man as though they’d personally insulted him. “We’re orphans, not idiots. Steve ain’t getting in that car with you, and I ain’t letting him go anywhere _private_ with you neither.”

Stane’s eyes narrowed, a frown line appearing across his forehead, but his voice remained friendly enough, the faintest sharp edge to his words. “Don’t be like that, boy, I’m don’t mean any harm. I just need to talk to Steven for a moment.”

Part of him wanted desperately to crawl inside that car and demand that Stane tell him what was going on, demand to know if something had happened to Tony, but the other part of him was firmly agreeing with Bucky that this man shouldn’t just be trusted so blindly. The icy feeling trickled further down his spine, and all the muscles in his back tensed against the urge to shiver. “I’m sure you can talk just as well outside of the car as you can in it.”

Annoyance flashed across Stane’s face before it smoothed over again into a friendly smile, he turned and said something to the driver, lips moving but the words not reaching them outside of the car, before he opened the other door and stepped out of the car. The smile was still firmly in place, but no longer reaching his eyes the way it had to start with, as he walked around the end of the car, closing the door that had been left open invitingly before.

Stane wasn’t exactly dressed for standing around outside, a suit that was all tailored edges and not a mass produced cotton blend one the likes of which was hanging in Steve’s cupboard, left over from his mother’s funeral. Despite how inadequately dressed he was, Stane didn’t show any signs of discomfort, and despite manners dictating better, Steve felt no notion to invite him back inside the group home. He flexed his fingers inside his pockets, trying to will his body to relax a fraction before his spine froze in place like it was threatening to, and watched with what he hoped was a guarded expression as Stane stepped up onto the footpath and the car pulled forward to park against the kerb a few metres away.

Stane eyed Bucky for a moment before stepping past him in a clear dismissal and seemed to think nothing of the way his hand casually fell on Steve’s shoulder. “How are you, Steven?”

Steve’s chest tightened a fraction more, mind instantly flashing to the asthma inhaler in his drawer in his room that he hadn’t had to use in months but suddenly felt as though he should have been carrying on him, just in case. “I’m fine, Mr Stane, how are you?”

The hand on his shoulder didn’t seem to change in pressure at all, but somehow Steve found his feet moving in time with Stane’s as they walked a few metres away from Bucky. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the way that his friend was glaring at the back of the man’s head. However, he’d stayed in the same spot they’d left him, though Steve could tell by the tilt of his head that Bucky fully planned on listening in despite the widening gap.

“I think we both know that I didn’t come here for small talk and pleasantries, Steven, and I’m sure you’re a smart enough boy to have figured that out.” The smile slipped off his face, something cold and a little dangerous settling into his blue eyes. “Tony told me about your, situation, if you will, which is why I’m here. I’ve known that boy his whole life, and I’ve never seen him quite so lost and desperate for a way out.”

Steve’s shoulders and back were starting to ache, spine feeling brittle, as though all Stane would have to do was clap him on the shoulder once more and he’d shatter. He tugged a breath in and denied himself the impulse to pull his hands out of his pockets and curl them over his stomach. There was so much behind those words not being said, but Steve could hear it loud and clear. Stane was there for one reason, to help Tony; it was evident from the protective tone of his voice that he cared a lot for Tony.

“He wants a way out?” It felt like his throat was going to close around the words and make him choke on them. The icy feeling crept forward from his spine, slipping into the pit of his stomach and setting like a stone there. Tony wanted a way out, of what exactly, Stane hadn’t made clear, but he could hear the words unspoken in the moments of silence between them, the hand tightening on his shoulder only confirming that what he was thinking had to be true. Tony wanted a way out of their relationship, out of being responsible for their baby.

“You’re both so young, Steven, I’m sure you can understand that this is a lot for him to take on at his age. It’s a lot for you to take on too, but you’re the one making all the choices.” Stane’s voice changed, deeper, more comforting, like he somehow understood every one of Steve’s fears and doubts just by looking at him. “Tony already has so much responsibility weighing him down, he’s the heir to one of the most well-known companies in the world, he has his whole life ahead of him, college, MIT, to get him prepared for taking over that company, and you want him to take time out from the life he wants to what? Play happy families with you?”

“I never asked him to do any of that.” He tried to think back, tried desperately to recall if he’d ever said anything that Tony might have taken to mean that. “I didn’t mean for him to think that.”

The hand on his shoulder rubbed back and forth in a comforting manner. “He didn’t say that you asked that of him, but you never gave him a whole lot of choice. You decided that you’d keep the baby before you even told him about it, and that isn’t exactly fair, now is it? You go ahead with this, you make Tony give up everything he wants just to keep you happy, I’m sure you’re smart enough to realise that you’ll be ruining his life.”

The hand moved away from his shoulder, but Steve couldn’t really take in anything that was happening around him. The world felt like it was closing in, all the doubts he’d had, about Tony really wanting to be with him, about whether he would even be able to look after the baby by himself, were solidifying and weighing him down. The frigid air he pulled into his lungs felt like it had had all the oxygen sapped out of it, causing his head to spin and his stomach to clench in an attempt to empty itself of the dry toast, ginger tea and two cups of water Bucky had forced on him before.

Something appeared in his direct line of sight; Stane’s hand extended and holding something out to him. He could hear the man’s voice, but it was an effort to focus on the words that he was saying. He had to drag in another breath, trying not to gulp for oxygen, remembering the way his ma taught him to breathe when he wasn’t getting enough air. The air hit his lungs, settling in and the relief was almost instantaneous, the world dragged back into focus.

“... this should cover the medical expenses, there’s the number of a good clinic in there too, high end, discrete, they’ll take better care of you there than anything you can afford, I’m sure. You need to understand, Steven, this isn’t just about not ruining Tony’s life, in time I’m sure you’ll see that it’s best for both of you. There will be other chances for you, when you’re older, mature enough to make the right choices, not just acting on impulse.”

It was an envelope, yellow and official looking, the type from an office, thick paper holding the contents flat, and it took a moment for Stane’s words to catch up with him and Steve knew that it was money inside there. His hand was out of his pocket, reaching out for the envelope, because it was there, because everything Stane was saying was sounding too true, too logical. Tony didn’t want him, or the baby. Tony had told this man, had this man who cared about him, who he was sure that he’d heard Tony speak fondly of before, come and deliver the news and the money.

The envelope was in his hand before he even noticed his fingers had brushed it, and Stane was smiling at him in a sympathetic kind of way. He could hear Bucky’s footsteps getting closer, hesitant, but edging nearer.

Stane clapped his hand back onto Steve’s shoulder, smile shifting from sympathetic to tired, eyes growing serious. “And please, for Tony’s sake, don’t make a scene out of this. He doesn’t need his name dragged through the mud at such a young age. I’m sure you care about him enough not to want to do that to him.”

His fingers tightened around the envelope until his knuckles were white and the yellow paper was creasing under his fingertips. He had to keep breathing, because he knew if he didn’t stay in control of that he’d throw up all over Stane’s highly polished leather shoes, even as he saw them retreating out of the edge of his vision. Bucky’s scuffed sneakers took up the place the expensive leather had been moments ago, both hands falling on his shoulders and clinging tight, almost like they were holding him up rather than just offering support.

“Steve, what happened? What was that all about?” Bucky’s voice cut through the deafening haze that had settled over him.

He blinked once, glancing up at Bucky whose face was painted with concern before looking back down at the envelope. Bucky snatched it out of his hand, tugging at the tab until it came unstuck and opened, frowning as he shook the contents out enough that he could get a proper look at it. A thin sheet of paper slid halfway out of the envelope and Bucky’s eyes went wide as he looked at it. 

“Why did that man give you money?” Bucky’s voice sounded dangerous, as though the wrong answer would send him chasing down the street after the shiny black car and the man inside it. 

Bucky turned the envelope around so that he could see what was on the piece of paper, and Steve felt the breath jam in his throat as he looked at the figures printed on the cheque. He blinked again, making sure that he was reading it right. Twenty thousand dollars. 

He blinked again, hoping that it was the cold that was making his eyes sting, and not tears, but he felt too numb to really be able to tell the difference. “It’s from Tony.” He hadn’t been a hundred percent sure of that fact until the words were out of his mouth, but it all made sense. Of course Tony Stark would think that pushing money at a problem would make it go away. “To get rid of the baby.”

Bucky jerked back as though he’d been hit, and looked about ready to throw the cheque on the ground. “That fucking bastard!” The words, the venom behind them, snapped Steve out of the haze fully, feeling anger surge in his chest and words starting to form in Tony’s defence, but the look Bucky gave him made them die in his throat.

“Don’t you dare defend him, Steven Grant Rogers. He sent some lackey over here to do his dirty work because he didn’t have the balls to come and tell you himself that he’s too chicken shit to take responsibility for what he did!” Bucky’s voice cracked with anger and he looked like he’d have punched something if there were anything within reach. The look passed a moment later, features softening when his eyes focused back on Steve’s face, and he had no idea what sort of expression he must have had to cause such a drastic shift in Bucky’s mood. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not just going to let him get away with this, are you? That’s your baby, Steve. His too. So typical bloody Stark to think he can throw money at a problem until it goes away.”

The protest from earlier tried to surge forward again, getting to the tip of his tongue before he realised that Bucky was right, he shouldn’t be trying to defend Tony. Shaking his head slowly he reached out and took the envelope back from Bucky, tucking it safely in his jacket pocket. “I’m going for a walk. Get this all sorted out.”

Surprisingly, Bucky didn’t follow him, but he did hear him let out a frustrated growl before storming off in the opposite direction.

His chest felt too tight, the cheque weighing impossibly heavy in his pocket. He couldn’t bring himself to touch it again, even though it was far more money than he’d ever held in his life, held neatly on a single piece of paper. Tony gave it to him. No, Tony had someone else give it to him. He’d been waiting for this day, when Tony would finally realise it was all too much; though he’d expected him to just walk away, not pay him to kill their baby. It didn’t matter that it was technically legal. They’d heard its heartbeat. And yet, Tony still wanted him to get rid of it, just discard it like it wasn’t a living, growing thing.

Fury’s words danced through his mind again and he knew he was right, he had to figure out if he could do this on his own or not. He could keep the twenty thousand and it’d help, it’d cover most of the doctors’ bills, at least he hoped. He’d have to find a place to live, and a way to get money. He wasn’t really sure if he could handle being a single parent. His mother had, but she’d been so strong, and still struggled every day to make ends meet. He couldn’t remember what it was like when he was too young to go to school, couldn’t remember how she’d managed to look after him and work. It just made his heart ache for her. He’d give anything to be able to just turn to his ma and ask for her help, ask what she thought he should do.

Every step he took only took him closer to uncertainty, to not knowing what to do. How could he look after a baby with no job and no family support? He didn’t doubt that Bucky would be there to help, but he couldn’t keep letting Bucky fight his fights for him. He had to be stronger than that. 

He knew he should confront Tony about it, should go to his house and demand to know what he was thinking, sending Stane to do his dirty work. But with every stuttering beat of his heart, he could hear it over and over, echoing in his memory. Tony didn’t want their baby. Tony didn’t want him.

He hadn’t expected that to hurt so much.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to quandong_crumble for the beta work and for pointing out the areas in this chapter that needed reworking so that it didn't sound terrible. Thanks to her for her never wavering support in this story.

Tony glanced at his reflection once more, fingers carefully smoothing out the edges of the concealer he’d taken from his mamma’s makeup case, working it into his skin a little more, he hissed slightly as his fingers touched the bruise that he was attempting to cover over. Satisfied that the bruise was no longer visible, and the split in his skin was camouflaged by his hairline, Tony grabbed his jacket off the end of his bed. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he tried not to think about the couple of unanswered messages he’d sent Steve earlier that morning.

He told himself that Steve wasn’t always the most reliable person when it came to his phone, it wasn’t odd for a few hours to pass without a reply, but the whole thing with Howard the night before had made him antsy. He also told himself that it was perfectly normal for him to just go around to see Steve, even without prior notice, or at least prior notice that he knew Steve had received. He’d sent him a message that morning asking if he could come over to the group home to see him. It was kind of the same thing. Close enough.

Snagging a pair of sunglasses, Tony perched them on the top of his head, ignoring the way that they snagged on his hair near the cut in his scalp, he checked himself once more in the mirror, flashing his reflection a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, before heading straight out the door. Half way down the stairs he slipped his phone back out of his pocket, and dialled Happy’s number.

“Yes, boss?” Happy’s voice came over the phone, sounding stern and professional, but still friendly enough. Tony tried not to think too hard about the fact that the people who seemed to care about him the most were paid to do so.

“Meet me around the front? I need to go visit Steve.” He reached the bottom of the stairs, giving Jarvis a rough salute as he headed towards the door, hanging up his phone as he received an affirmative response from Happy. The air outside was still cold enough to send an instantaneous shiver up his spine and make him tug his jacket a little tighter around himself. The door shut behind him and Tony started down the path towards the main gates, waiting for Happy to appear in the car.

“STARK!”

The shout made Tony flinch, almost dropping his phone as he turned it over and over in his hand. Looking up through the open gate Tony could see Bucky storm up the road towards him. The look on Bucky’s face made him pause, hand raised half way in a casual greeting, eyes instantly scoping the area behind Bucky, searching for any signs of Steve.

“Hey Barnes,” The words rolled off his tongue as Bucky closed the distance between them, casual despite the jerking of his heart inside his chest, his mind instantly telling him that Bucky Barnes, unaccompanied by Steve, probably wasn’t a good situation. He tried to drag up any number of scenarios that would have Bucky there without Steve, and none of them were very optimistic. “Where’s Ste—”

The words cut off with the sharp blow of Bucky’s fist against the side of his face. His head whipped back, pain erupting across his cheek, shooting down his neck and across his shoulder blade from the forced recoil his muscles weren’t ready for. Black red and green supernovas burst across his vision and, blinking rapidly to clear them, he didn’t see the second blow coming either.

Staggering backwards, Tony’s shoulders locked up, spine snapping straight and he forced his eyes to focus past the pain and the tears that sprang instantly into existence from the sharp pain in his left sinus. Bucky was glaring at him, his mouth moving but Tony’s brain was scrambling to absorb the words he was saying. A hand closed around the front of his shirt, bunching his collar and pulling it tight across the back of his neck, drawing in close around his throat. His breath hiccupped in a moment of panic, half sure he wasn’t going to be able to breathe for much longer, but his body wouldn’t react to fight off the attacks. 

“You’re a fucking coward, Stark!”

Bucky’s hand tightened around his collar more, shaking him harshly, bearing down on him, and exaggerating the height difference between them. _Coward_? He needed to protest, but his throat closed around the words, catching them before they had a chance to be heard. It felt like his bones were rattling, a bare skeleton, not protected by ligaments and muscles, dangling from Bucky’s grip and rendered useless under his gaze.

“You think you can just throw money at people like us and we’ll scramble to do your bidding?” His voice had turned low and dangerous, matching the look in his eyes. Tony’s fight or flight reflexes were torn half way down the middle, indecisive. Catatonic.

“The world don’t work like that, you bastard. You can’t just wipe out what is inconvenient to you, Stark. You can’t just fuck up his life like that!”

Of course it was about Steve. About everything he’d done, hurting him, getting him pregnant, ruining his life.

“HEY!”

It took too long to realise that the last shout hadn’t been Bucky’s voice. By the time it registered in his mind that it was Happy’s voice, the hands around his collar had been snatched away. His bones were too loose, like a puppet without strings they tried to crumple to the ground, but the first desperate drag of air into his lungs reinforced his spine, turning it back to iron, snapping so straight it hurt.

His vision finally cleared, the black, red and green seeping away like dying off star bursts, to show Bucky struggling against Happy’s hold, one arm across his chest, the other holding his right arm tight against his back. Happy’s concerned gaze landed on him for a moment and all he could offer was a tight nod in reassurance because he really didn’t know if everything was okay or not.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Happy demanded of the struggling Bucky, not breaking his hold and somehow still dodging every kick backwards that Bucky attempted.

“He’s making Steve kill his baby!”

The words hurt more than either punch, felt like hands around his throat again, cutting off his airways. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, the iron in his spine solidifying, hardening, encasing him and cutting off the whole world. _No, no, no, nononono._ The panic gripped him, dragging his mind to a halt, pain etching into his heart and his stomach curdling with the remembered bitter taste of whiskey and blood.

_...pregnancy will be terminated...clean this up!_

It played as a loop in his head, the words echoing back and forth until there was nothing else. A strangled noise worked its way out of his throat, something close to a whimper, his hands clenching to fists as he tried to catch it and drag it back inside the iron casing. The world felt like it was closing in on him, the iron shell around him starting to crumple in from the weight of it, crushing him, not strong enough to protect him, like he wasn’t strong enough to protect Steve. Wasn’t strong enough to protect their baby. Not from himself.

“Boss? Tony? C’mon, deep breaths.”

Happy’s voice sounded too far away, nowhere near close enough to help him. He couldn’t focus on anything except the words in his head and the weight of everything crushing him. His baby, their baby, Steve, it was all too far away. Steve was going to kill their baby and he wasn’t doing anything to stop it, couldn’t get himself to react like he needed to, couldn’t save any of them from the whole world trying to crush them.

“He didn’t. It wasn’t him, was it?” Bucky’s voice started to chip through the iron, uncertainty wavering his words.

The weight started lifting. Happy was next to him, hands on his shoulders, helping him to stand. Taking some of the weight that was trying to catch him. It finally felt as though his lungs were working, dragging in breaths as steady as he could make them, mind still scrambling over everything that had been said.

Bucky stood where Happy had left him. He was rubbing feeling back into his right shoulder, watching them both with less venom than before, more uncertainty.

Tony had to fight past the panic that was roiling inside him, keep dragging in another breath and trying to sort out all the noise inside his head. The world still felt too heavy, but he had to deal with that, square his shoulders and take everything head on, otherwise he’d fail, he’d fall apart, and Stark men didn’t fall apart.

“What happened?” The words sounded far more level than he had expected them too. Feeling steady enough, he shrugged Happy’s hands off of his shoulder, offering the driver what he hoped would be a reassuring smile, before stepping towards Bucky. “Where’s Steve?”

Something dangerous flashed in Bucky’s eyes for a moment, but he seemed to think better of it. “You really don’t know, do you?” He didn’t seem to actually require a response, rubbing a hand viciously across his face. “Steve said it was you. Some guy rocked up in one of ‘em fancy cars, like that one, and talked to him. I couldn’t hear half of what was being said, the bastard wanted Steve to get in the car with him, I thought he was gonna be one of those perverted bastards that kidnapped teenagers. But they just talked, and Stevie, he was getting all upset. When the guy left, Steve had an envelope in his hands and he said that it was from you.” 

He blinked rapidly at Bucky’s words, even feeling his eyes automatically slide over to the car Happy had left running a few metres away when Bucky gestured at it. Swallowing around the tightness in his throat, Tony kept staring at the car when he forced the words out. “What was in it?”

“A cheque for a heap of money, dunno, think it was twenty grand.” There was a slight pause, Bucky’s face twisting with disgust and maybe regret before he finally spoke again. “Said it was to get rid of the baby.”

The weight was back, pressing in on him, trying to crush him inside the iron that encased him, keeping him up right. His breath hiccupped, but he’d deny that it was anything like a sob. He felt sick, stomach churning and rebelling against everything that Bucky was saying, begging him to ignore that anything like that had ever even happened. His hand clutched desperately at his phone, fingers trembling as he searched for Steve’s phone number.

“What are you doing?” Bucky was right next to him, not touching, but leaning in close enough that it felt almost like support.

“I’ve got to call him. Steve. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He found Steve’s number, but before he could press it to connect the call, Bucky’s hand was gripping his wrist tightly, dragging him around so they were facing.

“ _Didn’t mean for this to happen_? I was starting to think you were really innocent in all this, Stark. What the hell did you do?” Bucky’s eyes were furious, not wavering and not even flinching when Happy grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him back a few steps.

The phone shook in his hands as Tony’s mind reeled, skipping over the events of the past few days until he knew that there was only one explanation. Only one person would have organised anything like that.

“I told Howard about the baby.” The words felt like shards of glass, cutting his tongue and the inside of his mouth, scratching at his throat and sharp in his lungs. He knew that it had to have all sparked from the night before, from when he’d stormed out of Howard’s office. From his blatant refusal to do what Howard had wanted, the way he’d labelled him a murderer and slammed the door. It had to be Howard. Sure that his son wasn’t going to do as he’d asked, and not leaving any room for failure.

“Call him.” Bucky pulled away from Happy’s grip – let go when he didn’t seem to be an immediate threat – and closed his hand around Tony’s again, pushing the phone back closer to him. “Call him before it’s too late, you stupid bastard. Don’t you dare let Steve do this. He’s gotta know you don’t want him to.”

His hands shook, the phone trembling in his grip even as his fingers tapped at the screen trying to bring up Steve’s number. The call finally connected, the audible ringing vibrating through his fingers as Tony put his phone to his ear.

It rang, and rang, and _rang_. Tony realised that he was holding his breath, but still couldn’t find the effort to let it out. It rang until it rang out and there was the steady, accusatory beep of the call having been.

The breath he’d been holding left him all in a rush, feeling like a solid lump as it was punched out of his throat. There was a hand gripping his shoulder painfully and it took a fraction too long to recognise that Bucky was still standing there, looking at him expectantly. He wasn’t sure if his hand was on his shoulder because he felt suddenly unsteady on his feet, or if Bucky Barnes had just wanted to keep him focused on what was going on.

“He didn’t answer.”  The words tasted like an apocalypse, ash swirling through his mouth and down his throat. He could feel his stomach twisting, bile rising in the back of his throat and all he wanted was to be able to wash the taste and fear away. “He didn’t answer. What if it’s too late? Do you know where he was going?”

The hand on his shoulder dropped away but Tony barely noticed, eyes staring blindly at the screen of his phone as he tried to ring Steve again, watching the call connecting screen until it blinked over to the call ended screen again. It felt like the base of his stomach had dropped out, a bone deep cold settling over him and adding to the wait of the world that had started pressing back onto him again.

“I need to go.”

Bucky had turned away before he could think of a way to ask for his help, to ask him how to find Steve. Happy was still standing there, watching him, probably judging him, and it was too much. He’d fucked up. He didn’t need someone on Howard’s payroll to judge him for that.

He’d fucked up. Steve thought he didn’t want him, didn’t want the baby, and there was nothing he could do to take back to mistake of letting Howard find out. All the plans he’d been making, the sleepless nights designing things and looking at real estate and trying to figure out the future was all for nothing if it really was too late.

He needed to find Steve, he knew that. It was more important than anything, but Bucky was walking away from him like he couldn’t stand to be in his presence any longer. And Happy was looking at him with something between pity and guilt, the black car sitting there like glaringly obvious evidence, and he wasn’t sure he could trust Happy right then. 

There was only one person who he thought might be able to help him. The one person with a driver’s licence and who would actually believe him that Howard was behind it all and not him. 

But he wasn’t entirely sure he could have that particular conversation with Rhodey in the state that he was in. 

 

His head hurt, pain radiating out from the bruised skin he’d covered over with makeup. His stomach felt like it was full of rubble; hard and painful and weighing him down. Tony wasn’t sure when he’d turned away from Happy and the words he couldn’t say to Bucky’s retreating figure. He wasn’t sure when the phone in his hand had been replaced by a bottle of scotch from Howard’s liquor cabinet and the taste of bile on the back of his tongue had been replaced with the sharp bite off alcohol. He hadn't meant to hold on to the bottle, just one mouthful, something to boost up his confidence and try to stop the swirling panic on his mind. The first sip had burnt his throat, making him cough, but as the burning subsided everything seemed to slide into focus, the panic not gone, but dampened and with that moment of clarity he knew how it all had to play out. The bottle was supposed to go back then, back behind the glass cabinet doors where it would pretend that it hadn't been touched by anybody else except Howard. He'd closed the door with the bottle still in his hand, not because he wanted to be anything like his father and try to cover over his emotions with alcohol, but, just in case. Just in case the swirling panic and rubble needed to be dampened down again before he got to Rhodey's place.

He wasn’t sure how long it had taken to get there, the door suddenly in front of him and his knuckles tapping out a rhythm that was ingrained into his memory for years of repeating it. There was an ache in his legs and feet that was probably a good indication that he’d walked the whole way, but he couldn’t drag the memory past the accusations his own mind was throwing at him – it was all his fault, he’d killed his baby, he’d ruined Steve’s life and there was no way he could go back and fix that.

The door opened and only then did he realise that he was no longer facing it, that instead he was sitting on the porch, back against the weatherboard wall with his knees pulled up to his chest, the bottle of scotch, clutched tight in one hand. A familiar pair of shoes appeared in his peripheral vision and it was enough to tell him who had opened the door.

“I fucked up.” He confessed to Rhodey’s feet, feeling the bile rising with the words and hastily washing it back down with another pull from the bottle, glass clicking against his teeth. The alcohol burnt down his throat again, quietening the accusations in his mind for a moment, but not providing the clarity from before.

The feet shifted, stepping back into the house for a moment, before coming back out onto the porch, the door closing behind him. Rhodey crouched down beside Tony, shrugging his way into a jacket before reaching for the bottle of scotch. Tony whined in protest, knuckles going white in his effort to hold onto the bottle. He needed it still – just in case – to dampen the panic and the rubble in his mind.

Realising it was a losing battle, Rhodey sighed, rocking back onto his feet so he wasn’t crowding his friend so much. “What’s up Tones? What happened?”

It was ‘ _what happened?’_ not _‘what did you do?_ ’ and if that wasn’t half an indication that his friends were too good for him, Tony wasn’t sure what was. It had been days; days of knowing and he hadn’t even told his best friend what was going on in his life. He’d told his mamma, and Obie, and Bucky knew, hell, even Howard knew and he hadn’t gotten around to telling his best friend. Until it was too late. Until he’d fucked everything up. He’d wanted to do the right thing. He was going to do the right thing, he had made plans for it, a job, a house, Steve and their baby. And then he’d gone and fucked everything up and almost most certainly lost the most precious thing in his life.

“Tony?” Rhodey’s voice was thick with concern; concern he didn’t deserve, from a friend who was too good for him. “Just talk to me Tony, I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

He huffed out a breath, then hiccupped when his diaphragm protested the sudden exhalation. Fingers tightening around the bottle again, Tony fought off the urge to take another mouthful, to feel the burn of it and that increasingly elusive moment of clarity that followed. He tried to think back to the walk over, drag up some recollection of how much he’d drunk, feeling his mind clouded enough with its effects, though it did little to dull the pain that was clenching tight in his chest. “I told Howard about the baby.”

The words were out, not the ones he really meant to say, not the urgent request for help, for Rhodey to drive him around, but a babbled confession that didn’t make a lot of sense without context. He didn’t need to look at Rhodey to see the confusion on his face, he could practically hear the question before it was even asked, but he still flinched out of guilt when it was spoken out loud.

“What baby?”

“Mine.” The word was sharp with guilt; guilt for getting Steve pregnant, for not being able to protect him and their baby, for not telling his best friend about what had happened until it was too late to be good news. “Mine and Steve’s. He was going to have our baby, but then Howard found out.”

“Tony,” Rhodey let his name out as a sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face and back through his hair. “What’s going on? When did, when did that even happen?” 

Tony let his loll to one side, feeling a slightly manic smile stretching across his lips, the memory of Rhodey’s party still trying to drag up some positive feelings despite everything that was going on. “Your birthday.” He waggled his eyebrows slightly, leering. “In your bed.” 

Rhodey made a choked sound, like a groan that he had second thoughts about. He reached out, hand gripping Tony’s shoulder a little harder than was probably necessary, watching as Tony’s face sobered, the forced grin slipping away. “What are you going to do? You and Steve?” 

The questions from Rhodey made his heart hurt, but he knew that he’d have to tell his friend everything, and that it was his own fault for not having already told him. His fingers were starting to cramp around the neck of the bottle, protesting against having to hold on so tight. Letting go though, the very idea of it, felt like giving in. And Starks didn’t just give in. His throat clicked, dry and tight against the words that he was contemplating saying, and he was almost desperate for another drink, despite knowing it wouldn’t do him any good. The bottle stayed where it was, resting against the wooden slats he was sitting on. Distantly he could almost hear Howard’s voice, telling him that he wasn’t man enough to drink more than he already had – the bottle was still over half full, the tide line not far below where it had been.

“Tones?” 

Rhodey’s voice, the concern in it, made him look back up again, breath stuttering in his lungs because he didn’t deserve that concern. “Bucky, he thought I did it, but, someone gave Steve money, to get rid of the baby. Bucky said there was a black car, like Happy’s, one of the company cars, so Howard must have done something and now Steve won’t answer his phone and what if it’s too late?” 

Rhodey’s eyes went wider as the words tumbled out, sentences piling together in a jumble, and he was sure that Rhodey’s dark skin went a few shades paler as the meaning of the words sunk in. “It’s a weekend.” 

The observation felt out of place, jarring him from the mess of emotions and guilt inside his head. “Thanks, genius, of course it is, we’re not at school, but that’s not even relevant.” 

The look Rhodey gave him shut him up before his friend started to talk again. “It’s a weekend, Tony, I don’t even think abortion clinics are open, I don’t know, not like I’ve ever needed one.” 

The words swirled in the air between them, mixing in with the dust motes and the heavy scent of alcohol, before they finally settled into his mind. He blamed the whiskey haze for the time it took for their meaning to settle into his brain. “It might not be too late. We’ve got to go find—” 

His words cut off suddenly when his pocket vibrated, phone buzzing against his hip, making him feel it deep in his bones. It startled him into action, the bottle clattering against the wooden slats, forgotten as he dug his phone out of his pocket. “Hello?” He felt breathless, hope catching in his throat, the desperate need for it to be Steve on the other end of the line, but something caught between fear and nervousness stopping him from looking at the caller ID. 

“Master Tony,” Jarvis’ voice came over the phone, sounding mildly exasperated and extremely tired, like he’d reached the end of his patience, yet also tinged with concern. “There is a rather emotional young man here insisting that he is to see you, and that he has no need for your money.” 

It felt like his heart was about to explode and the same time as his stomach dropped, rolling and feeling like he was about to throw up. It felt like a million emotions and thoughts were doing high-speed laps inside his head, unsure on what to settle on, until relief muscled its way through but couldn’t do anything for the way his pulse pounded inside his ears. It didn’t matter though, it was all drowned out by the repetitive chant of _Steve_ inside his head. 

He hung up the phone without even being aware of saying anything else to Jarvis, finding Rhodey staring at him with confusion and concern. The smile tugging at his lips felt premature, wrong in daring to hope, but he couldn’t keep it at bay. “I need to go home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to leave you guys waiting too long for the silver lining. Needed to show there was some hope after all of that happened in the last chapter. 
> 
> I've re-evaluated my plans for the future of this story, not by heaps, but just changing a few key details for events yet to come, to make it all fit better. The next chapter is in the works, and after that one is out of the way, this story is going to start leaning back towards being the high school story that it is supposed to be. Pepper, Peggy and Rhodey will all get more screen time, and there will actually be hope and fluff and happy parts. There is, of course, still going to be drama, and some angst, but a lot more "Steve/Tony" than "Steve and Tony maybe".


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. 
> 
> Thanks to [quandong_crumble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/quandong_crumble/pseuds/quandong_crumble) for the beta work, as always, you are a beautiful person and make it look like I can actually write in correct English most of the time. You fix all my dumb words and for that I'm eternally grateful. 
> 
> Thanks to [3White_Mage3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/3White_Mage3/pseuds/3White_Mage3) and [jujitsuelf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf) for all the cheer leading and hand holding. 
> 
> I'd probably never have gotten this chapter finished if it wasn't for the three of them.

There was the need, an itch, desperate and clawing, under his skin that made it impossible to sit still in the passenger seat of Roberta’s car as Rhodey drove. The need to get back home as soon as possible, to see Steve and to just know, because he had to know for sure – to see for himself – that Steve was okay. That their baby was okay. That it wasn’t too late. 

Despite Tony’s insistence, Rhodey refused to run red lights or creep even a little bit over the speed limit, checking his mirrors with the nervous frequency of a newly licenced driver. Badgering him about it didn’t work either, just earned him a glare while they were stopped at a set of lights, and the reminder that if he knew how to stick to the speed limit he would have had his own licence as well. 

It was only as they pulled in through the gates, security eyeing off the car’s registration even though they’d seen it hundreds of times over the years, that the need started to burn out, flames of doubt licking up inside him. Because, what if Steve didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to forgive him, didn’t want to listen to him? What if it was too fucked up, too irreparable, and Steve was going to just walk out of his life and take their baby with him and he’d never get to see either of them ever again? Steve could do it, he was sure of it; Steve would be able to raise their child all by himself, like he’d said he would back when he first told Tony he was pregnant. 

Rhodey pulled the car up in the car park that was usually reserved for Howard’s car, and Tony knew without having to see the tension in his friend’s shoulders, or the set of his jaw, that it was his own brand of a silent _fuck you_ to Howard. There was a level of satisfaction knowing that Rhodey didn’t need to ask more questions or even really get all the facts before he’d take his side. 

It was Rhodey who got out the car first, and Tony forced himself to follow, mostly to avoid having Rhodey open the door and drag him out of the passenger seat. His gut churned and protested at every movement, but he pushed that to the back of his mind, trying to focus instead on the number of steps it would take to get to the front door, which still stood open, as though Jarvis hadn’t ruled out the possibility of having to evict Steve from the house in a hurry. 

The door was there in front of him faster than he’d thought it would be, and when he looked around to see Rhodey a few steps behind him still, Tony realised that there was a fair chance that he’d practically bolted for it. There was that moment that tasted almost like fear, standing just outside the door and staring at Rhodey with no idea how he must have looked to his friend. Though if the way Rhodey seemed to be about two seconds away from hugging him, it was probably a good idea to get his expression under control. The chance of the ‘what if’ – what if it was too late to repair the damage, even if it wasn’t too late for the baby to still be alive. Uncertainty running rife, he turned back to face the door, squared his shoulders, pulled in a breath that felt like it was going to slice open his lungs, and stepped through into the house. 

Jarvis was standing neatly by the stairs, calm and for all appearances the perfect butler. He looked over as Tony and Rhodey stepped into the house, something that looked suspiciously like relief and possibly a little like pity flashing across his features at the sight of them. Tony couldn’t keep his attention on Jarvis though. Not when Steve was sitting on the third step of the staircase, a tea cup and saucer sitting next to him. He felt all the air leave his lungs, something warm and flighty bubbling up in his throat, because Steve was right there, whole and safe and looking absolutely terrible like he had for the past week or more, but at the same time, gorgeous. He wanted to cross the room and grab Steve and just _cling_ to him. Hold on and not let go until everything was okay and they were okay and it didn’t matter what had been said or by who or what had happened. 

Steve’s name was working its way out of his throat when the other boy looked up at him, eyes focusing on him from the other side of the room. He needed to explain, to tell Steve what had happened, that he didn’t want their baby aborted, that he’d never want that. But the expressions that flashed across Steve’s face in that instant stopped all the words from forming, jammed them in his chest, right against his lungs, until it felt like he couldn’t breathe properly. There was fear, quickly pushed aside by something that looked almost like desperation and sadness, quickly muscled out of the way by what could only be resentment and anger. A look that made his stomach drop and his heart feel cold and the panic that had been swirling in his mind before start up again with the reoccurring taunt _this is all your fault, you caused this, you deserve this_ going over and over again inside his head. 

Steve stood up, something scrunched up in his hand, and marched – there was no other word for it – across the room to where they stood at the door. Steve stopped in front of him, hand thrust out towards him, a rather crumpled cheque clenched in his fist. “I don’t want this.” 

Tony swallowed, breath a tight lump in his throat, eyes flickering away from the look Steve was giving him to look down at cheque. The crumpled piece of paper wasn’t any easier to look at than the abject disappointment, mistrust and anger in Steve’s eyes. 

“I— let me explain, Steve, please, it wasn’t, I didn’t, it’s not what you think, just, dammit, let me ex—” The words tumbled out of his mouth, too many sentences started at once and nothing making sense. 

Steve shoved his hand out further, knuckles white around the nearly destroyed piece of paper, cutting off Tony mid tirade. “I don’t need your money, Stark, and I don’t need you. I’m not getting rid of this baby. And _you can’t make me_.” 

He wanted to be relieved; Steve hadn’t gotten an abortion and wasn’t going to. But Steve wasn’t going listen to him. Steve didn’t trust him. Steve didn’t need him. Some part of him had always known that. And Steve was going to take their baby away from him. 

The knowledge sank like a stone in his stomach. Cold and hard and pushing against all his insides until he thought there was going to be nothing left of him, worn through from the inside out. He looked at Steve’s hand, at the crumpled cheque and had to swallow twice before his tongue felt even remotely close to working. If Steve wasn’t going let him explain, already said he didn’t need him, there didn’t seem like a whole lot of point. “You should keep it. The money. To help. Look after the baby. Anything else you need. However much money you want. To look after our baby.” 

_Because money was all Starks were good for._ Howard had said that all Steve would want from him was money. Howard wasn’t right though, because Steve was trying to give the money back. He could have taken it and never bothered with Tony again, but he was trying to give the money back. 

Steve’s hand faltered, wavering in the air for a while before his fingers clenched tighter and his hand came up again quick enough it knocked against Tony’s solar plexus. It wasn’t a punch but it felt like it should have been. 

“To look after it?” Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to cover up the hollowness in his voice, splotches of colour forming high on his cheeks and creeping down his neck. “You don’t want to look after it, you want me to kill it!” 

“No I don’t!” The words snapped out of him, desperate and vicious like a wounded animal striking out in defence. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs and the knowledge that if he stuffed up, there wouldn’t ever be much hope of rectifying it. 

It didn’t have the desired effect. Steve’s face drew tight, jaw wobbling for a moment before clenching shut. He swallowed, visibly hard, but the distrust and anger didn’t leave his eyes. “You can’t just change your mind all the time and expect me to be okay with that.” He gritted the words out between clenched teeth. His fingers loosened around the cheque and then he pushed it flat against Tony’s chest with the palm of his hand and kept pushing. 

Tony stumbled backwards into Rhodey, who he’d almost forgotten was there, knocked off balance. It was a sudden jolting reminder that even with chapped lips and dark bags under his eyes, Steve was still the same kid he’d been a few month before, the kid who didn’t like bullies and wouldn’t back down from a fight. 

Rhodey’s hand grabbed around his bicep, forcing him back onto his feet again and righting his balance. “It wasn’t him! Rogers, would you just listen? Howard did that, not Tony!” 

Blue eyes blinked at them, gaze flickering between the Rhodey and him, some of the rage slipping away, confusion taking its place. Steve’s hand dropped away from his chest, the cheque hung there for a moment before it fluttered to the floor. Steve didn’t need to ask for an explanation, the confusion was written plainly across his face. 

“Howard found out.” Three words strung together in a complete sentence and it felt like such a victory. Tony let out a breath, feeling like he could breathe again since Steve was no longer looking at him like he was the worst person in the world. “Last night, he found out somehow, he told me to make you get rid of the baby, but I wouldn’t do that. I can’t do that. I’d never want to do that. I didn’t think he’d do anything. Not straight away. I was coming to see you this morning, to tell you. But then, everything happened.” 

Steve’s jaw tensed a couple of times, like he was chewing over words that he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say them. He felt like he needed to say more, to fill the silence, to say everything that was bubbling just beneath the surface, but Rhodey was still standing there just behind him, even though Jarvis had discreetly disappeared, but probably not too far away. He wanted Steve to say what he was thinking, to stop looking at him like he still didn’t really believe him. 

Steve made a noise, garbled and frustrated words, but there wasn’t time to ask him to repeat what he said, before Steve was pushing into his space, lips crashing against his. It was hard, lips caught against teeth and feeling instantly bruised. He stumbled back a step, forced by Steve pressed close to his chest and hands fisted around his shirt. 

His shoulder collided with Rhodey’s, jolting him into action, enough to put his hands on Steve’s shoulders and encourage him to back up a little bit. Steve rocked back, feet flat on the floor and taking his weight back off of Tony’s chest. 

Steve’s eyes stayed clenched shut for a moment, lips pressed red and jaw set, like he was waiting for something, some sort of backlash to his sudden actions, but all Tony could think to do was shift his hands to cradle Steve’s face and kiss him again. It was lighter, gentler, and he tried to keep his sheer relief under wraps, tried to ignore the nagging questions that wanted to break through and needed answering. He tried not to think about any of it, about how close he’d been to losing everything that had come to matter to him in such a small amount of time, because Steve’s hands still gripped his shirt, and Steve’s lips were pressing back against his just as insistently. 

Rhodey cleared his throat behind them, and all Tony could do was kick a foot out backwards in lieu of telling him to shut up. Steve jerked back, cheeks blazing red and eyes snapping open to stare at Rhodey over Tony’s shoulder. 

Rhodey eyed the two of them, shaking his head slowly, and the look he was giving Tony told him that this was far from over, that Tony would have to talk to him at some point and an explanation would probably be greatly appreciated. “So, looks like this is my cue to leave.” Rhodey shifted his gaze to Steve and really hoped the other boy could see the _don’t you dare hurt him_ that was written plainly there. 

Tony smiled, knowing full well that it was far from the usual confidence he could force into the expression. He just hoped that Rhodey would accept that was the best that was going to happen until everything was sorted out. He didn’t miss the look that Steve received, felt Steve’s fingers clench tighter around his shirt in response, but neither of them said anything. Rhodey looked at him again, something fierce and protective behind his eyes and it reminded Tony again that he had friends that were too good for him. And that he really owed him a full explanation. 

Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder once, fingers tightening for a second before letting go and stepping back out the door, closing it behind him. 

Quiet settled over the room, broken only by the sound of Steve’s breathing, a little too fast to be comfortable, and sound of his own pulse echoing in his ears. It took until he heard the car start up outside for him to be able to turn back to look at Steve, finding the other boy no longer looking at him, staring instead at the stairs leading to the second floor. He could feel the questions wanting to bubble to the surface again, all the hows and whys of the situation. How’d they get from planning for a future, a house and job and looking after the baby together, to where they were? It seemed they’d had hardly any time to wrap their heads around what was going on and in an instant it had almost fell apart. 

He couldn’t ask those questions though. Something stopped the words from coming out. Maybe it was because he didn’t really want to hear the answers. Maybe it was because they’d narrowly avoided everything falling apart and he didn’t want to push them closer to the precarious edge they were balanced on. Steve didn’t look any more willing to talk about it, jaw set tight and not looking at him. 

Fingers relaxed and clenched around the fabric of his shirt, the pressure of the clothing pulled tight against his chest and the way that Steve’s knuckles kept rubbing against his chest was starting to edge towards being distracting. His own hands hadn’t moved, still cradling Steve’s face, thumbs stroking across his skin, chasing the flushed spots high on his cheeks and tracing the defined line of his jaw. He didn’t want to stop touching. Didn’t want to let go. Let Steve out of his sight for the risk of losing him. 

Steve looked back around at him, dragging his eyes away from the stairs, though they looked like they’d be pulled back there given half the chance. There was determination etched plainly into his face, and something else skirting around the edges of it, flighty and uncertain but daring. “Can we go to your room?” 

It wasn’t nearly everything that needed to be said, but one question, cobbled together with the way Steve was looking at him, it was enough for the time being. It was an apology of lips and hands and forgiveness in the way that Steve’s fingers dug into his shoulders as they stumbled through the door into his room. There was desperation and want in the way that Steve pushed back against him, propelling him backwards onto his desk chair and rummaged in his bedside draw before following him. 

Hands fumbled with the fly of his jeans, tugging at the zip and buttons until they gave away and he lifted his hips so Steve could drag his jeans and underwear down to his ankles. He wanted to say something, to slow it down and bit, savour the moment, but Steve was on his knees, face flushed with embarrassment as he dropped his own pants onto the floor. He’d been half hard when Steve had pushed him into the chair, but the sight of Steve, wearing only his shirt and sweater, on his knees in front of him got him the rest of the way. 

Blues eyes glanced up at him, nervous but determined and the words of encouragement or protest – he couldn’t decide which should be said – got caught in his throat when Steve’s left hand wrapped around the base of his erection. His fingers momentarily clenched too tight, before relaxing slightly and settling more comfortably. He could feel it, the pressure, the touch, the whole way through his body, radiating from that one point of contact, even the slightest movement of Steve’s hand making small noises creep out of his mouth, and he must have closed his eyes at some point because he’d lost sight of Steve before he felt the damp press of lips against the head of his cock. 

He inhaled sharply, feeling the breath force its way down his throat, a moan rumbling in his chest immediately after. The heat and damp and suction was all he could focus on. The occasional scrape of teeth caused sparks of something other than pleasure to roll through him, but not enough to make him wince. He forced his eyes open, not wanting to miss out on any sensory input. Slumped back in the chair as far as it would let him, he could see Steve’s face, lips stretched around him, hand having disappeared from where it was curled around the base, brow furrowed and eyes screwed shut in concentration. It was entirely too endearing to be as arousing as it was. 

Tony reached out carefully, fingers touching the soft strands of Steve’s hair, not sure whether he should really touch him or not, he didn’t want to make Steve feel pressured at all, despite the way his fingers wanted to tangle through his hair and his hips were trying to stay as still as possible. Steve hummed softly, not quite a moan, but lifted his head up slightly into Tony’s touch, and if that wasn’t permission, he didn’t really know what was. He carded his fingers through blond hair trying to be gentle, not to snag where the wind had matted strands together, and another moan slipped up Tony’s throat. 

The feeling changed, Steve’s mouth became looser, some of the pressure disappearing, and he had to bite back a whine at the loss of it. He could hear Steve pulling in air through his nose and he tried to drag his mind back online enough to tell Steve to slow down, to stop if it was too much, but as he blinked back into focus he noticed Steve’s awkward posture, the way his right arm was twisted back behind him. 

It took a moment to realise what Steve was doing, what had distracted him – Tony was sure he’d missed some crucial data somewhere along the way – then all at once everything seemed like too much, too close to just tipping over the edge. Heat coiled inside him, too tight, too much, and he wasn’t sure if it was a whimper, moan or whine that escaped him, feeling suddenly breathless. He didn’t want it to be over all too soon, sure that was where it was going to head if he wasn’t careful, tugging at Steve’s hair and trying to encourage him to stop. 

“Steve.” It was a broken sound, two syllables and a question mark. It felt like he’d never said Steve’s name before, and at the same time, like he could keep saying it over and over again forever. 

Steve’s eyes blinked open, brow still furrowed in concentration, and perhaps a little questioning, and he lifted his head up a little more, mouth moving away in a sudden shock of scraping teeth, cold air and the sound of laboured breathing. Steve’s head dropped against his thigh, panting damply against his skin, and Tony felt like the world snapped back into focus. He could hear every little sound that Steve was making, the slightest note of pleasure in every exhale, the minute slick wet noises of Steve opening himself up. It felt like torture not being able to see that, fuck, he wanted to be able to see, but even when he shifted to sit up a little more, all Tony could see was the way Steve knelt, knees splayed wide on the carpeted floor, and his left hand cradling the bottle of lube that usually resided in his bedside draw. 

Steve straightened up, right arm coming back around to the front. The bottle squelched and then Steve’s hand was wrapped around his erection, slick and not quite skin warm. Tony hissed at the contact, but it might have been closer to a whimper. All too soon Steve’s hand disappeared again and he stood up, reddened carpet patterns indented on his knees, wobbling slightly as he stepped closer to straddle Tony’s lap. 

The crease in Steve’s forehead was still there, even as he settled closer, hands gripping around the shirt fabric covering Tony’s shoulders. Tony wanted to reach up and smooth it away, but it wasn’t so much a frown as it was a look of complete concentration, as though sex was something that needed to be strategised, rather than improvised. And Steve seemed to think it was some kind of race, like there was some kind of desperation to get to the end rather than enjoy the whole experience. 

He caught Steve’s wrist when he reached down, stopping him and making deliberate eye contact. Steve’s pupils were blown wide, lips parted and breath coming quick, and he was sure he probably wasn’t any better put together. “Okay?” 

It wasn’t what he needed to ask. He should have asked if Steve was alright, if he was ready, if he really wanted to have sex, if maybe they should talk first. But Steve nodded, determined, and leant forward, lips bumping against his, and it felt like enough, for the time being. They’d talk after, he’d make sure to it, say all the things that needed to be said. He kept thinking that as he settled one hand on Steve’s hip, rucking his shirt and sweater up enough to access bare skin, and let go of Steve’s wrist to do what the other boy had been intending to do before they’d paused. Fingers curled around his lube slicked cock he held it still, Steve’s lips still pressed against his as he shifted around, until they lined up. He could feel the weight of Steve pressing down on him, heavy until his muscles finally gave and slick, tight heat enveloped him. 

It knocked the breath out of him, escaping in a groan across Steve’s lips, but it was everything he remembered it being the first time, the insistent slide into Steve, harder and quicker than before, part of his mind worrying that he might hurt him. He had to move his hand before it got caught, dragging against the apex of Steve’s thigh, the softer skin on the inside of his leg, until he was pressing his fingertips against the bony ridge of his hip, slippery, not finding purchase, but sliding around to fit along the line of his spine. He held him, tried to steady him, feeling Steve’s hands shift from gripping his shirt to wrap his arms around his shoulders, like he needed to hold on just as much as Tony felt he had to hold him. 

Lips dragged away from his, Steve’s face moving until they were pressed cheek to cheek. He could feel Steve’s breath against his skin, loud in his ear and it felt like every one of his senses was completely consumed by the other boy. There wasn’t room for anything else. Nothing else mattered. 

Steve was tight and hot around him, he could feel every tiny movement, every muscle spasm, and it felt like he was going to go crazy if he didn’t move. He could feel Steve’s thighs trembling, muscles straining with the effort of staying still, holding himself up at an awkward angle. Pressing wet, open mouth kisses against Steve’s cheek and temple, Tony let his hand slide lower, traced his spine and curved around the swell of his rear. There was the desire to let his hand keep going lower, to touch where he disappeared inside Steve, but it sparked arousal too bright and undiluted pleasure shuddered through him just a the thought. He didn’t think he’d survive if he gave into the urge. 

He felt like he should say something, communicate the taut feeling beneath his skin, the feeling that he’d snap if something didn’t happen soon. It had been so much easier the first time, to think of things to say, to get the words out, it scared him a little just how much he’d been derailed by Steve being in control. The emotional imbalance the day had brought didn’t help at all. Breath cracking in his throat he had to make several attempts before he was able to form words. “Sweetheart? Please?” 

He heard Steve suck in a sharp breath, felt his jaw tense against his skin where they were still touching, not entirely sure what to make of the reaction that had the benchmarks of being upset. But there wasn’t much time to contemplate, Steve was pushing down on his shoulders, levering himself up. The slide back out, movement, friction, it was sparks of pleasure licking at the base of his spine, urging him to move his hips to follow, then retreat. 

Rhythm and patterns emerged, bodies working in tandem, perfect synchronisation, like the parts of a beautifully designed machine. But they weren’t hard metal and well planned blueprints. It was a blur of heat and pleasure, skin and sweat slicked thighs, sweater knit caught against jacket buttons. Steve’s fingers dug into his shoulder blade and the back of his neck until he felt the pressure against the base of his skull. 

He could hear all the noises that Steve was making; they filled the room, despite Steve’s efforts to stifle them against his shoulder. They mixed with the sound of their breathing, the sound of sweat slicked skin touching every time Steve’s thighs met his, but it was all background noise to what was in his head. All the things he couldn’t say, wouldn’t dare say. 

_Don’t leave me, I need you. Hold me, don’t let go._

_I love you._

He kept his mouth shut, focusing on the heat and pleasure, the tight, slick slide and Steve’s skin beneath his hands, the notches of his spine that he could fit his fingertips against. He could feel the heat coiling tight in the pit of his stomach again, everything pulling too tight and too sensitive, like he could feel too much. 

It was sudden, violent, when his orgasm hit it felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. All he could do was hold on to Steve, fingers digging into his skin, and he panted against Steve’s neck, mind trying to catch up with his body, trying to calm down again, clear the white from his vision. 

Steve’s face was buried against his shoulder, hot breath caressing his neck with each heavy exhale. He could feel Steve’s body beneath his hands, shoulders heaving with each breath and thighs trembling from the position they were in. Running a hand up and down along his spine, in what he hoped was a soothing manner, Tony pressed a kiss to the skin just above Steve’s collar, unable to reach anything else. He could feel the damp between them, sweat and come making his shirt stick to his stomach, and it was only then that he realised Steve had climaxed before he’d even put a hand on him. 

Another kiss pressed to the junction of Steve’s shoulder and neck and he leant back the best he could, feeling Steve tighten his hold as though he didn’t want to put more space between them. “Hey, hey, gorgeous, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” He reassured, holding him a little tighter. Words seemed to be far more accessible once the heat of the moment was over. Once the desperation had faded a little bit. 

“Okay, ‘m’kay.” Steve mumbled against his shoulder, words slurred and soft. 

“You want to move?” With Steve pliant and loose against him, it seemed he was going to have to pick up control of the situation. 

There was a rough shake of the head in response, and Steve made a noise of disagreement and protest. Tony couldn’t help but smile against Steve’s skin – it was entirely different from how things had played out the first time. It had taken a while to push aside the feeling of abandonment that night after watching Steve bolt out the door. It was better having Steve cling to him like a limpet and reluctant to move, even if the weight of Steve was slowly making his legs go to sleep. 

Steve’s grip eventually relaxed and he did move, muscle fatigue making his legs shake with the effort of getting up and staying up. They cleaned up, redressing, Steve changing into a borrowed hoodie, his sweater in desperate need of a wash, having suffered the same fate as Tony’s shirt and jacket. 

He was leaning against the edge of his desk, watching Steve putting his shoes back on when the words he’d been biting back since he’d first seen Steve sitting on the staircase, finally broke loose. 

“I’m really glad you didn’t get rid of the baby.” 

Steve froze part way through tying his shoelaces. There was a beat before he looked up, jaw set and eyes narrowed slightly. “Told you I was keeping it.” 

It was an attack, at the same time that it was defensive. A jab at how he should have trusted him more than to think that he’d have killed their baby. He wanted to fight back, to retaliate and say that if Steve had just answered his phone then it would never have been an issue. But starting another fight wouldn’t really help anything at all. Not when he still had the phantom press of Steve’s body against his. Not when they’d taken a step back away from the edge and had started to find slightly safer ground. “I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what Howard had done.” 

And that was the truth of it, when it all boiled down, it was less that he’d been worried about what Steve would do, and more that he was worried about lengths Howard would go to make them get rid of the baby. It didn’t stop the thoughts about why Steve had taken the money, or why he hadn’t answered his phone, or how he’d even thought that he’d been the one to send the money. “It wasn’t me.” 

Having gone back to tying his shoelaces, Steve looked up again. His expression was softer than before, cautious, but less defensive. “I know.” 

“Do you? You seemed pretty bloody certain it was me before.” He wanted to stop the words, stop talking and just shut up, but it hurt, the idea that Steve really had thought it was him who’d sent the money. 

“He made it sound like you wanted me to.” Steve snapped, standing up and squaring his shoulders, eyes narrowed again. “He made it sound like you wanted me to get rid of the baby, and that it would be the best things for both of us. Especially for you. Because it would have ruined your perfect, predetermined life.” 

“What about everything I said about buying you a house and getting a job and being there for you? All the times I told you about the things that I was designing, all that work I was putting in to getting ready, fuck, Steve, did you think I was lying through my teeth the whole time?” He wasn’t sure when he’d left the desk behind and taken a step closer to Steve. It felt like the iron casing was coming back again, trapping him inside and slowly crushing him. He gulped in a breath, trying to stop his lungs from constricting. 

Steve’s jaw tensed and he blinked, but didn’t look away. “You can walk away from this all and I can’t. I don’t want to be remembered as the guy who dragged down Tony Stark. Or that kid with Tony Stark’s bastard child.” 

“Marry me.” 

The words felt like they came out of nowhere. They hardly made sense, other than the logic of getting married to prevent their child from being a bastard, but even then it felt like one part of his brain and his mouth where working miles ahead of the rest of him. 

The room fell silent, Steve stood there staring at him, confusion evident in the pinched look on his face even as he tried to keep on glaring at Tony. “Don’t patronise me.” 

He realised how it had sounded, suddenly blurting that out without any context, without the build-up of what had been inside his head, getting a house together, having the baby, being there to look after them both and maybe eventually something of a relationship that wasn’t just built on the fact that they hadn’t been careful enough at Rhodey’s party. “One day, I mean. Not now. But one day, if you want to. We should go on a date first.” 

Steve blinked at him, eyes going wide and eyebrows drawing up in question. His mouth opened, licking his bottom lip before finally getting words to form. “A date?” 

It felt like something unwound inside him, relaxed a fraction and let him breathe a little easier, because while it wasn’t perfect, Steve didn’t look half a second away from storming out the room, and that was a start. “Yeah, a date. Next Friday. I think that would work, we can do whatever you want to do, go anywhere, and I’ll even promise to have you home at a reasonable hour. I mean, only if you want to. If you don’t want to, then that’s okay, it is, I’ll be just fine with that. Please want to?” 

The barest hint of a smile curled in the corner of Steve’s mouth, and he huffed out a breath that sound like a cross between disbelief and a laugh, glancing down at the floor for a moment before he looked back up. “Okay. But I’m paying.” 

He had to bite his tongue to stop the protest, because for once his brain got in first and told him quite firmly to shut up and not ruin anything by arguing over the little things. “This time. I’ll pay next time then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long to get posted. But I'm not making any promises.


	13. Chapter 13

Tony had Happy drop him off the school early Monday morning and made his way straight to the library where he knew Pepper would be. He looked at the box that he was shuffling from one hand to another, haphazardly wrapped in shiny gold paper, and just hoped that Pepper would like the gift. It had been one thing to tell Rhodey about the baby when he needed his help, it was something entirely different to tell Pepper while perfectly sober and without Steve being MIA.

It was easy enough to find Pepper, she was in the same spot she always sat, back corner of the library sitting on the edge of one of the tables, lazily kicking her legs as she flipped through whatever book she’d gotten hooked on lately. 

Tony swallowed around the nervousness that was building in his throat and took the last few steps over to where Pepper sat as confidently as he could, jumping up to sit on the table beside her, thrusting the wrapped gift between her face the book, knowing it was the best way to get her attention.

“Pepper, Pep, gorgeous, beautiful, brilliant Miss Potts, how are you today?” He knew his smile was stretched too wide but couldn’t get it to relax enough to look normal. Just like he knew his sunglasses were doing nothing to hide his black eye. He just hoped that his hair and concealer cover-up attempt were sufficiently covering the cut on his hairline, or at least that the black eye would distract everyone away from the other injury.

Pepper jerked back reflexively, putting a bit more space between her face and the present and peered at it suspiciously. She glanced over at Tony, one eyebrow raised. “It’s not my birthday, and you’re early. Why are you early?” 

Waggling the present in lieu of addressing the first part, he stretched his grin wider, trying to maximise the charm and hopefully avoid as much backlash as possible. “To bask in your delightful presence, my dear Pepper.” 

Her eyebrow crept higher, lips pressed into a tight line and he knew she didn’t believe him for a second. He dropped the wrapped box into her lap. “Just open the gift and accept the fact that you deserve it.” 

Pepper’s gaze shifted back to the present and she tucked a dog-eared bookmark into the book she was reading and set it down on the table beside her. With one more slightly suspicious glance thrown in his direction, she started to pick at the tape holding the wrapping paper down, carefully peeling it away and unfolding the paper to reveal what was inside. 

“Tony...” She let his name out in a huff of exasperation, staring at the Apple iPhone box still nestled in the gold wrapping paper. 

“It’s only because I haven’t finished working on the Stark phone yet, patent and copyright pending, when I’ve finished that I promise you’ll be the first to get one, but that could be a year or two from now, depending if Obie will give me funding and the R&D time for it and all that and I couldn’t wait that long to give you a new phone, because you’re awesome and I knew you wanted one, eventually, so you have one.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, quick and flashy and he hoped it would distracted her from the present sitting in her lap and maybe distract her enough that she wouldn’t be mad when he told her about the baby. 

Pepper looked over at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth like she did whenever she wanted to stop herself from saying something, the look in her eyes entirely too serious and not nearly as flattered and impressed as he’d hoped. “Tony, you didn’t need to buy me a phone.” 

“Yes I did.” Those words and the next were out like Formula One cars at a green light, too quick and not nearly controlled and his own ears struggled to keep up with what he’d said. “Steve’s pregnant.”

In the silence that followed Pepper blinked at him, fingers clenching around the wrapping paper making it crackle as it screwed up underneath her grip. “Come again? What? Since when? Is it yours? Because I swear if it isn’t and he’s been sleeping around on you I will murder him and Dad will help me cover it up.” 

The layer of nervousness that had wrapped itself around him started the crack and it felt easier to breathe than before, despite what Pepper had said. “What? No! Of course it’s mine.” 

Pepper’s face relaxed, no longer frowning as hard as she had been, the beginnings of a smile curving the edge of her lips. She shuffled over a little closer and threaded her arm around Tony’s, dropping her head onto his shoulder in what was an approximation of comfort. “That’s good. How long?” 

“Eleven weeks. Ish. It happened at Rhodey’s party.” Tony watched as the wrapping paper slid off Pepper’s lap and fluttered to the ground, catching on one foot as she kept kicking her legs. He wasn’t sure how she was taking it so well, infidelity induced death threats aside, but he had the feeling he really should stop underestimating how much his friends would support him no matter what stupid things he did. 

“Guess that’s what happens when you sleep through all the sex ed classes, genius. Thought you’d know better.” She teased and he could feel the muscles in her cheeks pull back into a smile. “How’s it going? Is everything okay? Are you going to keep it?” 

Something lodged in his throat, tight and painful enough it made his eyes water and Tony absolutely refused to admit that he might be getting emotional while talking to Pepper. “That’s a story and a half, Pep.” 

She squeezed her arms around his in comfort. “Better get started on the telling then, Stark. And somewhere in that story there had better be a really good explanation of how you got that black eye.” 

He smiled, turning his head to press a kiss into her red hair, reminded again that that his friends were too good for him, too willing to put up with all of his bullshit without asking too many questions. “Why do you think I came to school so early?”

///

Monday lunch time had been a little tense, what with Rhodey glaring at Bucky and Pepper looking like she was outright itching to punch him in retaliation for Tony’s black eye. His friends seemed slightly appeased by the fact that Bucky looked incredibly guilty and no sooner had Steve taken one look at the bruising and swelling that was coming up on Tony’s face, had he turned on Bucky and punched him in the arm hard enough that Bucky complained he couldn’t use it for the rest of the day. Steve hadn’t listened to him, just called him a jerk and made him apologise to Tony.  

The rest of the week at school went well, better than Tony thought it would, despite the way that Steve still looked pale too often and frequently had to duck away from lunch whenever something set off his apparently all day sickness. Pepper had taken the news better than he’d thought, and Steve had told Peggy as well, and since Monday the two girls had been inseparable. Tony wasn’t sure if they were collectively disapproving of his and Steve’s carelessness, or plotting out the first eighteen years of their child’s life. 

Either way it was a cause for concern. 

It was nice, Tony thought, spending time as a group at lunch time, and seeing Steve smiling with his friends. It made him feel like they were just boring old high school students. Normal. To a certain point. But, it was those little moments, when they seemed normal, that it was easy to relax and forget about all the big things in life. When their biggest stresses were the assignments they had that were due soon, and the exams that would be coming up at the end of the year. 

Not that he ever once forgot about the baby, or all the planning that he still had to do. Things like finding a place to live, getting a job. Finding out who’d been through his stuff to find the sonogram image. It was just nice to think, for a while, that Steve didn’t have to worry about that stuff. 

Friday was there all too soon, quicker than Tony anticipated. There had been the heady moment of saying goodbye to Steve at the end of school and getting to say “I’ll pick you up at six,” and getting to see Steve duck his head and smile in response. 

Tony wished someone could have noted it down that he didn’t change his clothes fifteen times over like Pepper and Rhodey had teased he would have, and he absolutely did not pace the front step waiting for Happy to bring the car around. He wasn’t that cliché. 

Happy talked at him the whole drive over to the group home, mundane things like what had been happening in the hockey and football he’d been watching lately, or the upcoming games over the weekend, and he really thought that he probably should have paid more attention than he did. But he was pretty sure that Happy was merely providing a distraction and wasn’t actually looking for any active participation in the conversation. 

Steve was waiting just inside the front door when Tony rang the doorbell. Someone who was decidedly not Fury answered the door and made Tony and Happy both go through the process of signing a register that seemed to be little else but a tracking log, keeping tabs on the kids living in the home. While Happy was filling in his details, Tony had the chance to finally look at Steve, feeling the flutter in his chest that had been present throughout the whole week, the words he hadn’t yet said to Steve still right and true and obnoxiously loud inside his head. But he wasn’t going to say them. Not while everything was still so unsteady. 

Steve smiled at him, lips tugging up in the corners ever so slightly. It really only emphasised how tired he looked, how cracked his lips had become. Tony felt the sharp pang of guilt, because no matter how he looked at it, he knew that it was his fault. He wanted to tell Steve to stay home, that he should get some more sleep, that they didn’t need to go out to the movies, but the entirely too selfish part of him stopped him from saying it. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” He returned the smile, trying to push down the guilt and the worry, because he did worry, he worried about everything. Steve. The baby. Getting a job. Their future. 

Colour sparked on Steve’s cheeks, but his smile grew a little bigger. “Hey Tony.” 

It felt like it had been so much longer than just a few hours since he’s seen Steve at school, it could be the only reason for the butterflies doing an air show in his stomach. He was distinctly aware of the fact that Happy had finished signing the register and was waiting patiently by the door. “Ready to go?” 

Steve nodded, starting towards the door with a polite goodnight to the carer on duty and an even politer good evening to Happy. As they walked to the car, Tony debated with himself as to whether or not he should take Steve’s hand. It had been a good week. They seemed to be on a level, at least, with what they were doing, if they ignored the fact that there was only a handful on months left before they had to get their lives in order and actually be prepared to look after a baby. The thought didn’t weigh down the butterflies in his stomach again, they ramped up their efforts, and if Tony really did think about it, he was more nervous excited at the prospect than nervous scared.

They settled into the car together, Happy in the front doing his best to pretend he wasn’t there at all. The distance between Steve and him felt simultaneously too close and miles apart, and all that was swimming around in his head were the million and one things he should or could say, anything witty or reassuring or anything to fill the silence. If he’d been in the front seat, Tony knew that he would have been fiddling with the radio just to make noise and have something to do. 

“I thought we could go for pizza. Do you feel like pizza, Steve? There’s this really good place that Rhodey, Pepper and I go sometime, I think you’ll like it. If you like pizza that is.” He was barely aware that he was still talking until Steve leant over from the other side of the seat and touched the back of his hand. There was a pause before his fingers curled around the side of his hand, finger tips digging into the palm of his hand a little too hard. It got his attention though, which he figured was what Steve was hoping for, if the way he was looking at him was any indication. Not that his focus stayed on the slightly amused, slightly worried look in Steve’s eyes for long, before he found his gaze dragged down to Steve’s lips, and he wasn’t worrying about pizza after that – all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss Steve. 

Steve’s lips tugged up in one corner and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, which did little to change the chapped appearance of the skin. “I like pizza just fine, Tony.” 

He let himself breathe out, feeling the butterflies doing stunts in his stomach, latching onto the sense of relief those words had caused. “That’s good, because I didn’t have a backup plan. Figured I’d just wing it if all else failed.” He shifted his hand, turning it so that the palm of his hand fit against the palm of Steve’s and curled his fingers around the side of Steve’s hand to hold him in place. “There’s a movie on at eight too, something action-y, I forgot what it’s called, but it promised guns and car chases and explosions, so I figured it was hard to go wrong. Unless you don’t like action films? Then there are probably other movies we could see instead. Please don’t like rom coms though, they’re all too...” 

“Mushy?” Steve offered, one eyebrow raised in obvious amusement, and knowing he was the source of amusement, even unintentionally, made Tony’s heart skip in his chest with the realisation that he had made Steve happy, and it just felt so right. 

“Yeah, they’re mushy and gross and totally unrealistic.” The words slipped out past what he was sure was an absolutely goofy smile on his face.

“Whereas action films and the pinnacle of fact and realism.” Steve deadpanned, the hint of a smile trying to break through. 

“Yes, exactly.” If there had been anything else that he was going to say, Tony forgot it, completely derailed by the sweep of Steve’s thumb along the side of his hand. It seemed silly that one simple action could throw him right off track, and as impossible as it seemed, Tony’s brain reminded him that he wasn’t in fact some blushing virgin, that he’d already had sex with Steve twice and given him a blow job, so why oh why was one innocent little action putting him in such a tail spin? _Because now you know you love him_ , his brain so helpfully supplied in way of explanation, and he had to swallow the words back down when he felt them bubbling to the surface again. It just didn’t seem like the right time. Not sitting there in the back of the car with Happy driving. Not when he wasn’t sure if Steve would say them back. 

Happy dropped them off at the pizza place with instructions to give him a call when they were ready to head to the cinema. The restaurant was on the smaller side, family run, but was busy enough that Tony knew they were lucky to get a table, a booth in the back corner, filled with the smell of cooking dough and melted cheese, but it was nice.

They ordered pizza slices and Tony organised for a pizza to be delivered to Happy in the car park he knew he would have headed to, because it didn’t seem fair to take up the man’s night and not at least put something forward as a peace offering.

Sitting in the booth opposite Steve, Tony tried not to talk with his mouth full as he kept coming up with more random things to say, most of which he realised were more and more frequently involving the mention of Pepper and Rhodey and the various things they’d gotten up to together during school holidays and on weekends when he hadn’t been busy doing something for the company. He talked about the company too, about different people that worked there, but Steve smiled brighter and nodded more attentively when he was talking about Rhodey and Pepper, so he tried to remember as many embarrassing stories as he could from his and Rhodey’s shared childhood. Most of them were more embarrassing for him than they ever would be for Rhodey, but the way Tony saw it, was if he told them first, it’d be harder for Rhodey to blackmail him with embarrassing stories later.

He tried not to notice, or at least not to get hung up on, the way that Steve only picked at his pizza, taking small bites and chewing carefully and thoroughly and drinking a lot of lemonade to wash it down. He wanted to ask Steve if he was okay, but the small but ever present smile on the other boy’s face made him really not want to ruin the good time they were having. 

“Anyway, long story short, that is why Rhodey and I do not feed the ducks in Central Park anymore. Ever. Never again. And probably best not to mention it to Happy, I think he still has nightmares about ducks.” It was easier to tell embarrassing stories than to ask Steve if he was okay, he rationalised. In the moment of silence that followed, Steve smiling at him like he was half embarrassed on Tony’s behalf, he bumped his ankle against Steve’s under the table, and tried to ignore the way his heart skipped and the butterflies in his stomach did somersaults at the way Steve blushed but didn’t move his legs away. 

They headed to the cinema for the eight o’clock movie, Happy dropping them off out the front just in time for them to join the line to buy tickets. Tony was sure that it physically actually hurt having to just stand there and let Steve pay for the movie tickets, but the first time he’d tried to say something about it, Steve had shot him a glare strong enough he almost bit his tongue with how quick his jaw had snapped shut. It was a matter of pride, he figured; Steve had said he’d pay, and there seemed like there was no way he was going to back out of it, no matter what he said. 

It felt good, like petty triumph, when, as they’d passed the confectionery stand, he’d ducked in to buy a large frozen coke. Steve stood there frowning at him as he paid for it, tickets clutched in his hand and looking like he really wanted to protest. With the drink in hand, he headed back over to where Steve stood, twirling two straws between his fingers and smiling in what he hoped was an innocent enough fashion that Steve would forgive him. 

“What?” He asked at the way Steve’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched slightly. 

Steve looked pointedly at the drink and then back up to meet Tony’s gaze. “Thought I said I was paying. Think you need your ears checked, Stark.” 

He feigned shock. “What? Oh, the drink? No, that’s just for me, didn’t know you’d want one.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, reached out and plucked the straws out from between Tony’s fingers and made a show of holding them both up so it was obvious there were two of them. He raised one eyebrow questioningly, not even bothering to say anything. 

“I like two straws, okay? I know what I like, don’t question my preferences, I’m a genius, remember? Anyway, come on or we’ll miss the movie, there are probably vital plot points at the beginning that we have to see otherwise the rest of the movie won’t make sense. Because that’s how the action movie do.” He grinned, reaching out to close his fingers loosely around Steve’s wrist and starting towards the theatre door that had been listed on the tickets. There was a bit of resistance before Steve fell into step beside him. 

“And geniuses don’t have to speak proper English?” Steve teased, tugging his wrist back until it slipped free and he swapped the grip Tony had had on it to his hand. “I guess the army of robots you’re going to build probably run on binary or something instead, do they?” 

“Not proper English? What, no, it’s a—” he stopped, right at the entrance the theatre, pulling Steve to a quick halt as well. “Steve, don’t tell me you don’t know it.”

Steve gave him a perplexed look, stepping a little closer to let another few people walk through the door. “I know proper English, if that is what you’re asking.”  

“No, no, it’s a reference, to something online,” he tried explaining, fingers tapping against the back of Steve’s hand, too much nervous energy suddenly running through his body. Steve just frowned slightly, like he was trying to work out a problem and that didn’t help matters at all. It was one thing for him and Pepper to watch YouTube videos together and get a little geeky over them, but it seemed so very childish to quote them when Pepper wasn’t around. “There’s this guy, on the internet, who has a really cool voice and he narrates these videos about weird animals and that’s something he says. It probably kind of lame, but I can show you sometime, if you like.” 

The frown on Steve’s face relaxed slightly, and he smiled, similar to the way he’d smiled in the restaurant, a little lopsided and so genuine it hurt. “Yeah, that’d be pretty swell. I’d like that. Then at least I’d know what you’re going on about half the time.” 

“Swell?” He couldn’t help but grin in response, it only widening at Steve’s eyes narrowed to a glare that didn’t match the smile on his face. 

“Shut up, at least it’s English. Anyway, thought we had a movie to watch, so you didn’t miss out on vital plot points.” Steve stepped back a little, handing the tickets over to the attendant standing near the door who was giving them a rather amused look, and started tugging Tony along behind him into the darkness of the theatre once their ticket stubs had been handed back again. “Because that’s how they do, or something like that.” 

Despite everything that he’d said about vital plot points, Tony was pretty sure that there weren’t actually any. For the entire movie. Not that that really mattered, because he wasn’t sure how much attention he was actually paying to the movie, not with Steve sitting right beside him, hand still closed around his. It was distracting to say the least. Steve watched the movie like it was the most interesting thing in the world, entirely focused on it, not even looking away when he took the drink that Tony offered him. He smiled every time Tony leant closer to whisper something about the special effects to him, though he’d tighten his grip to painful whenever he started to ramble. 

It seemed too soon that the night was over, that Happy was pulling up in front of the group home, and they were walking back towards the door. 

Steve stopped when they got to the door, glancing at the doorbell but not moving to press it. He looked back at Tony, giving him another painfully genuine smile. “Thanks, Tony, it was a good night.” 

He smiled in response; it was automatic now, like seeing Steve smile made him too happy to hide. “Should be thanking you, you insisted on paying.” 

“Not what it’s about. It was your idea, you asked, you made the effort.” Steve’s eyes flickered back to the door for a moment, his shoulders slumped a fraction. “They’re waiting for me in there now, so I probably should head in.” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, it seemed so stupid that even after a good night and then falling into a comfortable kind of routine that he’d get nervous over saying goodnight. “Guess I’ll see you on Monday then, unless you want to do something over the weekend, that is. I’m totally free to do stuff over the weekend if you wa—” 

The flow of his words was cut off when Steve stepped closer, stretched up a fraction and kissed him. There wasn’t a lot of time to react before Steve was stepping back again, a faint blush on his cheeks and turning towards the door. 

“I’ll text you, tomorrow, maybe, if I manage to get all my homework done.” Steve pressed the doorbell, and almost immediately there was the click of the lock from the other side of the door and it started to open. “Goodnight, Tony. Thanks for tonight.” 

“Night, Steve.” He lifted one hand to wave just as Steve disappeared inside the group home, waiting to hear the locks click over again before turning and heading back towards the car. 

Happy was waiting for him, standing on the footpath and looking like he hadn’t been listening at all. “Home again, boss?” 

“Sounds like a plan, Happy, might as well call it a night.” Tony grinned at Happy as he opened the front passenger door and collapsed into the seat. Seemed pointless to sit in the back when it was just him and Happy. That, and he knew it annoyed Howard when he did sit in the front seat. “I think it was a good night, do you think Steve enjoyed it?” 

Happy settled into the driver’s seat with more care than Tony had, shutting the door and starting to pull away from the kerb. “I’d say he had a good time, boss, you both looked like you did.” 

“That’s good.” He slumped in the seat a little more, stretching his legs out the best he could. “I want him to be happy, want to make sure he’s okay.” 

“Just make sure you’re happy too, and that he’s treating you right too. It goes both ways, boss. It’s not all on you, if you don’t mind me saying.” Happy said after a few minutes of silence, not looking away from the road. 

He wasn’t really sure what to say to that, it made his chest feel warm, the back of his throat tightened up and all he could do was nod. 

///

He wasn’t sure if it was just the remainder of the high from a good night out with Steve, or if it was because he’d had a whole week to stewing over it and not getting a chance to really get anything off his chest, but when he saw the light on in Howard’s office, creeping through from under the door, he didn’t hesitate with pushing the door open and marching straight into the office.

Howard looked up at him, scowling over the top of his computer. “Tony, what do you think you’re—”

“Shut up.” His pulse was thundering in his ears and he was waiting for everything to backfire majorly, but he felt like maybe the element of surprise had given him the upper hand for the time being. Holding out his hand he willed it to stop shaking, feeling the adrenaline already coursing through his body. “I want the sonogram back.”

He hadn’t expected to get an actual response from that, but Howard pushed his chair back from the desk a fraction to open one of the drawers, and took out the worn looking print out, holding it out without saying a word.

He stepped forward and grabbed the picture from Howard’s hand, feeling surge of protectiveness that he’d never stopped feeling for ultrasound image of their baby. “We’re keeping the baby, Howard. We are. Both of us. Together.”

He left the office feeling vindicated. Everything was going to be okay. He and Steve could make it work, no matter how hard it got they’d find a way to get through it.

He went to bed that night with the sonogram propped up on his bedside table, desperately ignoring how cheesy and cliché it was. He messaged Steve telling him goodnight, and it didn’t really matter that he didn’t get a reply.

The sound of his phone ringing woke him up. His heart pounded in his chest and panic clawed up his throat as he was dragged out of his sleep. Fumbling around he answered the call, not awake enough to see what the time was or who was calling. “Hello?”

“Stark?” Bucky asked, voice sounding shakier than Tony had ever heard him, not even waiting for a response before he continued. “Stevie collapsed. The ambulance is here, he’s going to hospital. Thought you’d wanna know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly sorry for the delay of this chapter. I could blame a lot of things for the delay, but honestly, I got hugely stuck on trying to write a chapter that wasn't revolved entirely around angst. And also, my lovely beta has offered to shoulder some of the blame for the delay too, as this chapter was with her for a while. 
> 
> A note from the beta: 
> 
> Dear readers of CH,  
> I am SO SORRY that it’s taken so long for this chapter. That’s 100% on me, Q, the beta reader. It has taken me an embarrassingly long time to edit this chapter for Saral and I want to say that I’m truly, immensely sorry. Thank you so much for your patience. Please enjoy the much delayed chapter and don’t forget to tell Saral how much you love it :)  
> \- Q


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. 
> 
> Not beta'd, only proof read by myself, so I'm sure there are still mistakes in here somewhere.

The trip to the hospital had been a bit of a blur. He remembered saying goodnight to Tony, going to get ready for bed, and then things went kind of funny and he didn’t remember much after that. Bucky had been there, intermittently, and Maria Hill, one of the carers who had been on duty, but there was a lot of black spots in between. 

There was the hospital, though, the bed with the thick heavy sheets and room temperature that was just a little on the cold side. The skin on both arms felt like it had been used as a pin cushion, they’d evidently had trouble finding a vein, but that process was a little hazy too. It wasn’t quiet, there was enough noise within the hospital to prevent that, but Maria had ushered Bucky out of the room almost an hour ago, which had made everything feel empty eve n with all the other noise. The emergency light near the door made the room too bright, and the patient two beds over was snoring so badly he’d stop breathing every minute or so, which was a cause for concern. It didn’t help that every time he tried to shift to get more comfortable, the cannula would pull against his skin, pain sparking up his arm. It didn’t matter how tired he was, how heavy his whole body felt, he just couldn’t sleep. 

One clear memory he had since getting back to the care home the night before was repeatedly asking everyone if the baby was okay. They’d done an ultrasound not long after he’d been admitted, and he’d heard the heartbeat and seen the baby on the sonogram. It had calmed him down a lot, knowing that it was still alright, that he hadn’t done anything wrong. The nurses that came to check on him every fifteen minutes kept reassuring him that the baby should be fine. It settled him down from agitated fidgeting to a more sedate internal stressing. 

He was dozing, one minute watching the infusion pump click over with each drip from the bag of fluids, the next knowing he was waking up, having no concept of being asleep, but knowing that something had woken him up. Expecting the nurses to be making another round, Steve started to shift himself in the bed, trying to get into a less slouched position and wake himself up enough that he’d be able to go through the motions of the checks again. 

It wasn’t the nurses though, they weren’t waiting patient and reassuring at the bed side, there was some sort of commotion out in the hallways, voices rising and falling, overlapping into a rather loud mess of sound. He thought he could hear Bucky’s voice in the mix. 

He’d half way propped himself up against the pillows, left arm trying to keep the cannula from tugging against the inside of his elbow, when the commotion got louder and there was a silhouetted figure pushing their way through the open doorway, tugging his shoulders out of the grip of an unseen person and staggering into the room. 

“Steve?” 

It was Tony’s voice, scratchy with fatigue and fear, but it was a sound that he hadn’t known he was so desperate to hear. The tight ball of fear and anxiety in his chest let go so suddenly he almost choked on the relief. 

“Hey, Tony,” He sounded uncannily calm even to his own ears, but relief chipped away at his resolve and he sank back against the bed, heaving a breath trying to rebalance everything. 

Tony’s shoulders sagged a fraction and his hands floundered in front of him, body and mind no doubt working far faster than he was letting his mouth. “Hey you,” he shuffled forward a step, throwing a hasty glance over his shoulder to the open door behind him, before stepping up to the end of the hospital bed and slowly edging his way down the side. “What happened?” 

He reached out for Tony, right hand across his body because he didn’t want to jolt the cannula in his skin. The tugging sensation and sparks of pain did little but make him feel more nauseous than he usually felt. “They said the baby’s okay.” It was the first thing he could think to say, the first thing that he was sure Tony would want to know. The most important thing. 

Tony released a huff of breath, sounding relieved, and a smile fluttered across his lips before disappearing. He closed his hand around the one extended towards him, fingers intertwining and holding tight. “Good. That’s good. Glad to hear that.” He scrubbed his free hand over his face and back through his hair, fear visible for an instant before he covered it over again. “What about you?” 

Something nervous and flighty fluttered in his chest, making his heart beat skitter across the monitor for a moment. He felt himself blushing as Tony looked frantically between the monitor and his face. “I’ll be fine, they said it was just dehydration, so they’ve got me on a drip. Should be allowed out in a few more hours.” 

“Excuse me, young man,” Both their heads snapped around to face the door and the nurse who stood there. “You can’t be here, visiting hours are over. You’re free to wait out in the waiting room with Mr Rogers’ other friends.” 

Tony’s fingers tighten around his, until it was almost painful, and he could see the lines of tension and anger setting Tony’s shoulders. “I’m not leaving.”

The nurse looked like she was about ready to reply, but Tony didn’t give her a chance. 

“He’s my boyfriend and it’s my baby and I’m not going anywhere. Just try and make me and you’ll regret it.” Tony sounded dangerous, voice tight and carefully indifferent, as though hospital rules where completely beneath him. 

His heart thumped in his chest again, the monitor tracing the pattern, and Steve wasn’t sure if he should be grateful that Tony wasn’t going anywhere, the hint of possessiveness in his words more reassuring than they should have been, or if he should encourage Tony to leave just so the nurse didn’t have a hard time. He remembered his Ma talking about some of the patients and their visitors that used to make the shift more difficult than it should have been, thoughts of her making something cold and heavy settle in his chest. He missed her, achingly and never fading, but he tried not to think about it too much most of the time. 

It was for her sake, her memory, that he eventually spoke. “Tony.” 

Tony’s head whipped around to look at him, eyes wide and panic blatantly obvious. “No, please, Steve, don’t, I don’t want to leave. I have to make sure you’re okay.” 

The nurse looked like she was about to protest again when Maria Stark stepped up to the door way. Steve was a little surprised to see her there, he’d just assumed that Tony’s presence must have been as a result of Happy driving him, he never thought that he might have gotten his mother out of bed too. Guilt tried to eat at the level of comfort he felt knowing that Maria was there; he got along well with Maria, and her presence made him feel like everything might be okay. He didn’t have to worry about Tony getting sent out of the room, and it going back to being lonely and dark.

“Please excuse my son,” Maria Stark said in lieu of an introduction, addressing the nurse who turned to look at her inquisitively. “I’m sure you can appreciate that a phone call in the middle of the night was quite a scare for him, especially considering that it was concerning the health of both his boyfriend and their unborn child.”

Steve wasn’t sure if it was because the nurse realised who she was talking to, or if she had just had enough of arguing with everyone who had been in and out of that room since he’d arrived, but she heaved a sigh a looked between the three of them, before glancing over at the other still sleeping occupants of the room.

“I can understand your concern, and I know that Mr Rogers doesn’t actually have any family, so I can probably make an exception to the family only visiting after hours rule, especially given that he is only being held overnight as a precaution. Usually cases like this, the patient is out again in a few hours. But despite all of that, I’m sure you can understand that Steve isn’t the only one in this room and it is unfair on the other patients if your presence in here wakes them up.” The nurse informed them quietly, keeping her voice lower than it had been earlier, looking tired but a little more sympathetic than was perhaps warranted.

Maria nodded, glancing over at Tony and Steve, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, before turning back to the nurse. “Would it be possible, then, to get Steve moved to a private room?”

The nurse looked like she was about to protest and Steve very nearly was going to as well, because there was no way that he could afford a private room, or even justify the need for one if he was going to be leaving the hospital again in the morning. But before he could say anything, Maria held up her hand to quiet any protests.

“The expense isn’t going to be an issue.”

///

Knowing the Starks, Steve realised, was going to take some getting used to. He was still reeling from the whole process of being moved from the room he’d been initially placed in, into a private room a whole floor up, but Maria didn’t seem phased at all by it, like she had just expected it to happen. And Tony only seemed concerned with the fact that no one was trying to make him leave anymore. Starks, evidently, wielded money and influence as though it was their right.

The only difference, it seemed, was that Howard had assumed money would make the baby go away, while Maria used money to ensure that Steve and the baby would be alright.

He’d had the chance to swap a wide eyed look with Bucky, before his friend had fallen asleep in one of the two comfy looking chairs in the private room, and it felt good to know that Bucky didn’t think anything about the situation counted as normal either. Maria Hill and Tony’s mother had both left the room with the new nurse that had been assigned to him. After they moved him, they taken him off of the drip, his hydration levels acceptable again; the nurse explained that she’d come back to check on him again every half hour, and if he needed, they’d place him back on the drip again for a few hours prior to discharging him.

It hadn’t taken long for Steve to start feeling the effects of being off the drip again, the dizzying headache from earlier coming back almost instantly. He’d grown accustomed to it over the past few weeks it had taken to build up, but the sudden return of the headache made him sink down into the bed and never want to move again. Even though he kept reminding himself that it wasn’t even the worst he’d felt before.

The nagging guilt and worry about the baby probably didn’t help. If something happened to it because he hadn’t taken care of himself, Steve wasn’t sure he could deal with that. He didn’t want to even think about it. Didn’t want to think what would happen if he lost the baby. Tony might never forgive him.

Unless Tony didn’t actually care. He might not mind one way or another. It wasn’t like a miscarriage and an abortion were the same thing. If he lost the baby, then it wasn’t because anyone had paid him to, or because Tony might have wanted him too, but it still solved that one big challenge they were facing. His stomach rolled at the thought, he felt sick, bile rising in the back of his throat. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Cool fingers brushed against his forehead, pushing hair back out of the way, and dragging his attention back to the hospital room. Steve blinked, taking in the concern on Tony’s face, the way he’d hunched down until his chin was almost resting on the edge of the hospital bed, so he could look straight across the surface and look him in the eye. Tony kept stroking his hair back from his forehead, his other hand still holding his with the same strength that it had been all along. Tony was there. Even though it was some ridiculous hour of the morning. He was still there even though he hadn’t asked him to be. He was still there, even though he could have been home in bed. He hadn’t left his side the whole time, had barged into the hospital room had argued with nurse when she’d asked him to leave. 

Steve knew that Tony wouldn’t be there if he didn’t care. And maybe it didn’t really matter what he cared more about, Steve or the baby. He was there, despite everything, despite the fact that a week ago he’d outright accused Tony of wanting their baby dead. It had been unfair to even think that, to jump to that conclusion without even letting Tony tell his side of the story first. And yet, Tony had taken him on a date, had shown him a good time, and he’d gotten out of bed—had gotten his mother out of bed—to come see him in hospital. 

Steve swallowed down the bile and the unchecked emotions that were trying to take over and took a deep breathe. Not talking about things had already landed them in a mess once, so he knew he should just say what was on his mind rather than keeping it all bottled up until he felt like smacking his own head against a wall. “Tony—” 

“Yeah, Steve?” Tony whispered, squeezing his hand a little tighter. 

“—what if the baby isn’t alright? What if this has done something to it?” 

“Hey, hey, no,” A flash of panic crossed over Tony’s face, the grip of his hand tightening to painful, before he audibly swallowed it all down, his throat clicking with the effort. False calm masked over his expression, voice careful when he continued. “Don’t talk like that, the doctors would have said something, yeah? Someone would have said something to us, and they haven’t so everything is going to be just fine. You just need to focus on looking after you, okay? You’re a stubborn idiot, you should have said something to someone if you weren’t feeling okay.” 

He knew that Tony was trying so hard not to show that he was worried about the baby too, and on a level that calmed him down. If they were both worrying about the same things, then it wasn’t just him being silly. But at the same time, it was them worrying about the same thing. Thinking about exactly the same thing. It was comforting knowing that he wasn’t alone in that. “I thought I was fine. I was fine. But if something happens to the baby because of this, Tony, I’m so sorry.” 

Tony blinked twice in rapid succession, like a flinch while the rest of his body stayed perfectly still. “Hey, Steve, this is your baby. Yours. Do you have any idea how tough this little bugger is going to be? I mean, if she’s anything like you, this isn’t going to hold her back at all.” 

“She?” He hadn’t put much thought into whether the baby would be a girl or a boy, it all seemed too pre-emptive. 

Tony shrugged, giving him a lopsided smile. “Well, calling the baby ‘it’ all the time seems a little crass, and I feel sorry for the world if there ends up being a third generation of Stark boys, it’s about time the world got a Stark girl. And if it ends up being a boy, well, then we’ll break it to the world gently after the baby is born and we’re safely hiding away on our secluded tropical island.” 

He smiled despite the headache that was pounding against his temples, settling down into the hospital bed a little more, feeling tired. “Tropical island, hey? Don’t even have a house yet.” 

Tony grinned, shrugging as he stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I’ll build you a house on the island, happy?” 

He hummed affirmatively in response, closing his eyes and trying to fight off a yawn. There was quiet for a moment, as quiet as it could be in a hospital, before Steve opened his eyes again, squinting at Tony. “It’s your baby too.” It sounded more like a challenge than he’d meant it to; it was supposed to be reassurance, despite the fact Tony was already calling their baby a Stark, he felt like Tony wasn’t entirely sure how he fit into the equation. 

The grin slipped off Tony’s face, turned serious as he nodded. “I know. She’s ours.” He leant forward, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand that he held. “Get some sleep.” 

///

When he woke up again the nurse was back, carefully repositioning his left arm to reconnect the drip line. She smiled at him gently, reassuringly as he stared up at her groggily. She hooked the drip line back up, turning on the infusion pump that whirred and clicked steadily. 

“Going to give you another unit of saline, and then the doctor will be in in a few hours to discharge you, okay?” The nurse explained, jotting down some notes on the clipboard she picked up, writing down the readings off the heart rate monitor that he hadn’t even noticed being hooked up to again. “In the meantime, stay comfortable.” 

It’s only at the amusement in her eyes and the way she looked away from him to lower down the bed that Steve realised that the solid warmth against his chest, stomach and the fronts of the legs was in fact Tony. He must have crawled up onto the bed sometime while Steve was sleeping, he was curled against his chest, forehead pressed against his breastbone, breath warm through his pyjamas. 

“Thank you,” Steve croaked in response, voice foggy with sleep. 

The nurse patted his arm twice before she moved towards the door. “Take care, Steve.”

Tony stirred as the door shut, wriggling on the bed and stretching. He smiled up at Steve, sleepy and relaxed. “Hey, gorgeous. Feeling any better?” 

The dizzying headache from before was starting to ease off again with the drip reconnected, but he could still feel the queasy feeling lingering in his stomach. That ever present threat that he’d throw up again. “I’m doing better.” 

“That’s good.” Tony wriggled on the bed again, hesitating for a moment before looping one arm around Steve’s waist. “Sorry about the whole bed thing. But the chair wasn’t that comfy.” 

The way that Tony dropped his gaze away and ducked his head slightly hinted that the lack of comfort offered by the chair wasn’t the only deciding factor in his presence in the bed, but Steve didn’t feel like he had the energy to really investigate that further. Instead he shifted his left arm carefully, bringing his hand up to rest against Tony’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair. “Don’t think this bed is much of an improvement.” 

Tony huffed an amused breathe, his arm curled a fraction tighter around Steve’s waist and wriggled a little closer on the hospital bed, making the rubber lined mattress squeak beneath the thick cotton sheets. He ducked his head slightly, looking like he was aiming to nuzzle into Steve’s chest, causing his fingers to drag through Tony’s hair, pushing it back away from his forehead. There was a ridge beneath one fingertip that made him pull his hand back, careful of the IV lines that were hooked into the crook of his elbow and looped out over his forearm. Touching his fingers carefully to Tony’s forehead again he traced the slight ridge in the skin, right on his hairline, finding the pink line of newly healed skin, thin and sensitive looking like the type that had just lost a scab. He knew he deserved the stab of guilt he felt, because he should have noticed that before.

“Tony,” There was no reaction from the other boy at the sound of his name, but Steve knew he hadn’t dropped instantly back to sleep, he could feel Tony’s fingers still sliding back and forth against the back of his pyjama shirt. “Bucky didn’t do this, did he?” He hoped Bucky hadn’t, the black eye had been bad enough, Tony hadn’t deserved that at all.

Tony shook his head, not looking up, but tucking his head down lower like he was trying to escape the touch of Steve’s fingers. “Nope,” he made the ‘p’ pop, making it sound like an attempt to be overly casual. “I, ah, smacked my head on the corner of my desk. Last Friday. There was blood everywhere, very mess, very gross, I doubt you want to hear the details, especially with how sensitive your stomach is these days.”

Anger tightened his chest and made his stomach roll in a way that he knew he wasn’t in danger of throwing up from. It sounded like a lie. An excuse, a cover up, and it didn’t matter if it was Bucky or someone else who’s done it, Steve had every intention of marching right up to that person and socking them one in the face. “I don’t believe you.” 

Tony’s whole body went rigid, nearly vibrating with tension. He looked up, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Calling me a liar, Rogers?” 

Steve glared back. It seemed ridiculous that they’d have an argument while curled up together in a hospital bed with Bucky snoring softly from the chair in the corner. “No, I’m just calling you out on your bullshit and wanting to know the truth. If Bucky did that to you, I’m going to kick his butt so hard. It ain’t right, Tony, you don’t deserve to get hurt like that.” 

“It wasn’t Bucky, jeez, Steve, do you really think I’d defend him? He’s your friend not mine, and he has a habit of punching first asking questions never, but no, he didn’t throw a whiskey tumbler at my head because I pissed him off.” Tony hissed the response, voice barely above a whisper and vividly angry. 

Something cold slithered into the pit of his stomach and pooled there, making him feel sick at the idea of anyone throwing anything in the general direction of Tony’s head. He brushed his fingers through Tony’s hair again, but didn’t say anything. Didn’t trust himself to say anything because he was sure he’d only make it worse. He just kept staring Tony in the eye and waited. 

“You know how I mentioned that I told Howard about the baby and it didn’t go down well?” Tony’s face crumpled into defeat, and Steve was half sure that Tony was only giving in so soon because they were in the hospital and not alone. “He didn’t like the fact that I got you pregnant and that I wasn’t ashamed of having done that.” 

“Tony,” Anger bubbled right beneath the surface; Steve had never hated someone as strongly as he hated Howard Stark in that moment. “He can’t get away with that.” 

Tony shrugged, giving him a lopsided smile, like it somehow made everything okay. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Yes it does!” He failed to keep his voice down, biting out the words. 

Tony shifted back away from him as far as he could without falling off the bed, his face serious and stubborn. “No it doesn’t, Steve. Howard’s a dick, we both know that, but he doesn’t matter. You matter, not him.” He paused, carefully drawing his arm back from around Steve’s waist, settling his hand low on his stomach instead. Right above where their baby was. “And this little sea monkey, she matters.” 

 


End file.
